Te Amo In Aeternum
by She'sADayDreamerXO
Summary: It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. She was dead, he had watched her die, her hand brushing across his cheek as she whispered her final words, and yet as a blood curdling scream pierced the air, he whirled around to find a girl with fiery curls, her emerald green eyes widening with surprise as they met his own. Unmistakable. Unforgettable. Clary.
1. Chapter 1

**Idris**

 **Two Years Ago**

* * *

He ignored her when she called his name.

"Alec?"

A piece of crumpled up paper hit his back, rolling across the floor. He merely scoffed in annoyance.

 _"Alec!"_

"What?" He demanded, his eyes never leaving the screen. "What could you possibly want?"

That was classic Isabelle, trying to distract him the moment there was work to be done.

"Look." She whispered.

He reluctantly tore his gaze away from his view of the city, allowing it to land on his grinning parabatai. The two raven haired teens stared at their brother in amazement.

Jace...

Looked...

 _Happy._

Jace Lightwood didn't do _happy._ He was cynical, head strong, stubborn, stoic, all admirable qualities in Alec's eyes, and yet, here he was, leaning against the wall with a lopsided smile on his face.

"Hello, Alexander."

"Um, hi." He replied, unsure of what else to say. "You... You seem happy."

It suddenly occurred to him that he had never actually seen his brother look happy. Amused, sure, annoyed, definitely, but happiness had seemed to allude him for the last seventeen years. Jace was an orphan, taken in, adopted by the Lightwood's as a young child. His parents, his true mother and father had been taken away before he could ever know them, murdered in cold blood by Valentine Morgenstern.

Clary's father, though he would never hold that against her.

Jace was a hero, the best fighter Alec knew. He was so strong, so accurate, so dedicated.

He was also so loyal, forever defending those he loved. Robert, Maryse, Isabelle, Max, Clary, himself even, for they were parabatai, bound to protect one another. Always.

Jace deserved to be happy, Alec decided, more than anyone he knew.

Jace nodded. "I am."

Alec turned back to the screen, intent on returning his focus to his earlier task of searching for demons. Why Jace was happy was none of his business, and he wasn't being rude when he hoped that his brother would not share. They were Shadowhunters, they were supposed to control their emotions, not be ruled by them.

An order that had always seemed to be lost on the two girls in his life.

"What happened?" Isabelle demanded, her eyes shining.

She lived for gossip, and he found himself feeling thankful that Clary was not with them. Not because she so often got on his nerves, though that happened daily, but because despite her tomboyish nature, she still had her girly moments, where she and Isabelle wasted hours whispering back and forth, occasionally giggling.

Jace smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I would, actually." She pushed a dark wave of shiny black curls behind her ear. "Where's Clary?"

Alec sighed.

He wasn't stoic, he did feel, he just didn't feel a _lot_ , but earlier, when their red-headed friend had run out of the room, struggling to keep her composure, he had almost followed her out. He would have, had Jace not beaten him to it.

As much as they butted heads, as much as she got on his nerves, as much as he yelled at her, berated her, criticized her, she was still Clary, the girl that had been like a sister to him since her own mother handed her over to the Lightwoods as an infant, too worried about herself to even give a damn about Clary. He loved her. They all did.

"In her room." Jace said, his lips forming a thin line. His smile was gone, but only for a moment. "She, uh, she's going to be okay."

 _Of course she is._ Alec thought. _She's Clary._

"Why are you smiling?"

He reached for the knife he kept clipped to his belt, casually tossing it into the air. "Am I not allowed to?"

"You never smile." Isabelle accused, her eyes narrowing. "What happened between you and Clary?"

The knife clattered against the polished floor.

"W-What?" He asked.

The stuttering peaked Alec's interest, though his gaze remained fixated on the screen.

Jace never stuttered.

"What happened between _you_ and Clary?" She repeated, pronouncing each word carefully.

"Why would you think-"

"Because it's you." Isabelle replied, as if that explained everything. "And Clary. Everyone knows that-"

Jace rolled his eyes. "Not this again. Izzy..."

"It's true." She defended, crossing her own arms. "Right Alec?"

He didn't answer.

She hadn't finished her sentence, not that she needed to. All anyone had to do was mention their names together. It was the way they looked at one another.

They were...

They were Jace and Clary; everyone knew they would end up together.

Isabelle opened her mouth to speak, but she cried out instead, her hand clutching her side as she doubled over in pain.

They were at her side in an instant, catching hold of her arms as she sank to the ground.

"Izzy?" Alec asked, the urgency clear in his voice. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Clary." Isabelle whispered.

With a shaking hand, she gripped the end of her tank-top, the fabric bunching up in her fist as she yanked it upward.

His eyes widened.

"Her parabatai rune."

And then, Jace was running, wrenching free from his sibling's grasp.

Isabelle screamed.

* * *

"Clary!" He yelled, bursting through the door.

The room was splattered with red, the color of blood, a far cry from how it had been only minutes earlier. A lamp was broken, and her favorite chair, placed deliberately by the window, was toppled over, the fabric also stained.

"Clary!"

There was no answer.

"Clary?" He shouted, the desperation clear in his voice. "Clary?"

Someone coughed.

"J-Jace?"

He ran to her.

She was lying beside her bed, a mass of fiery curls plastered to her pale, sweaty forehead.

Her hand was pressed against the gaping hole against her chest. A knife wound. Fatal.

"No." He hissed, covering it with his own. _"No._ Stay with me, Clary, don't you dare close your eyes!"

"J-Jace..." She said again, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

"Save your breath." Jace told her. "Don't say anything, you need your strength.'

He reached for his stele, but found nothing.

"Where is it?" He hissed.

She let out a strangled breath, drawing his attention fully back to her.

"I'm so sorry Jace." She murmured. "I tried... He was just... He was just so _strong."_

"It's gonna be okay." Jace promised, brushing the curls away from her eyes. "You're going to be fine."

Fingers trembling, she brought her hand up to cup his cheek, her palm a familiar warmth against his skin.

 _"Te Amo."_ She whispered. _"Te amo in aeternum."_

Her hand fell away from his face.

"No." He grabbed hold of her shoulders, shaking her violently. _"No!_ Clary!"

Her head lulled to the side, and as she took her final breath, his face was the last thing she saw.


	2. Chapter 2

She woke with a start.

Her head was aching, and there was a dull pain in her wrist, which didn't surprise her. She had thrown the picture frame clear across the room, cutting herself in the process. Jace had burned an iratze into her skin before even a drop of blood could stain Maryse's plush white carpet. The last thing she needed was to get grounded for...

 _Te amo in aeternum._

She paled.

 _Jace._

She tried to sit up, to run to him, and promise him that she was alright, but found herself bound to a metal table, the ropes holding her only growing stronger as she struggled.

"Clarissa." A familiar voice said. "You're awake."

Clary whipped her head around, her eyes darkening. "Jocelyn."

She didn't miss the woman's face fall when she did not address her as _mother._

It was a precious word, one she had lost all right to fifteen years earlier.

"What's going on?" She demanded. "Why am I here? Where's Jace?"

Jocelyn stepped forward. She was dressed in traditional fighting gear, her hair, shades darker than Clary's own, pulled away from her face in a tight bun.

"Please. Forgive me."

"What circumstance should I be aiming my forgiveness towards?" Clary shot back. "When you gave me to the Lightwood's? For all those times you disappeared when I was growing up? When you told Maryse that _having_ me was the biggest mistake you ever made?"

"Clary..."

Clary glowered at her, a trait she had inherited from Alec. "Let me go. I need to get back to the Lightwood's, my _real_ family!"

"I'm sorry, Clary." Jocelyn said. "But I'm afraid you will never see any of them again."

"What are you talking about?" She cried, panic seizing her. "What are you going to do?"

Jocelyn moved away from her daughter, turning as yet another entered the room. Her eyes reflected fear, hurt, pain, perhaps even regret.

"Jocelyn..."

"He will never stop looking for you." She whispered. "This is the only way I can keep you safe."

She was _safe_ with the Lightwood's, with Robert and Maryse, the only parents she had ever known, with Alec, who critiqued, and criticized her, who drove her insane, the brother she had never wanted, but loved just the same, with Isabelle, her sister, her best friend, her _parabatai,_ with Max, the sweetest little boy she had ever known.

She belonged with Jace, protective, loving, loyal Jace, who she had been in love with for as long as she could remember.

A man stepped forward; he was tall, with maple-syrup-colored skin, gold-green eyes like a cat's, and tangled black hair.

A wave of dizziness came over her, the strong sensation that she was going to faint.

"No." Clary begged, tears welling in her eyes. "Please. _No._ Don't do this to me!"

"I'm sorry Clarissa." Jocelyn said again. "Truly."

She turned to the man. "Please. Proceed."

Clary thrashed against her restraints. "You won't get away with this! Jace, Izzy and Alec will find me!"

"No." Jocelyn replied. "They won't. Goodbye, Clarissa... I love you."

She left the room.

"My apologies, young Shadowhunter." The man said, resting his hand on her shoulder. She wondered if the gesture was supposed to be comforting. "But your mother feels that this is the only way she can protect you... If it helps, in a moment, you will not remember any of this."

Clary squeezed her eyes shut.

 _You will not forget about Jace, Izzy and Alec._ She told herself. _You will never forget them._


	3. Chapter 3

**Idris**

 **September 30th**

 **Two Years Later**

* * *

He watched intently as the foliage tore away from its branch, twirling almost gracefully through the air until it came to a stop just beside his boot on the cool stone of the balcony.

Falling leaves; the first sign of Autumn. The last of the summer breeze rippled through his perfectly tousled hair, and he shivered, wrapping his trademark leather jacket a little tighter around himself. It was oddly cool for the last day of September.

His heart ached, but only for a moment.

October; her favorite time of year.

Frankly, he had never understood the fascination. They weren't like mundane children, going trick or treating, dressing up like the monsters that only they knew were truly real, or using a perfectly good knife to dismember a pumpkin. She had brought joy to the month. She spent hours in the kitchen, baking up a storm. The entire house smelled like apples, like pumpkin pie, like caramel. She dragged all three of them outside, well after dark, spreading blankets across the grass. Sometimes, a fire was built, and they would sit there, side by side, trading the spookiest stories they could come up with, though their tales were in no comparison to the real danger they faced on a daily basis.

He had loved to watch her sketch; the cooler weather seemed to make her drawings come alive; haunting trees, surrounded by brightly colored leaves, Max, sitting on the stone bench in the gardens, his eyes bright, eager as he listened to Isabelle reading from the latest _Harry Potter_ novel, Alec, frozen in midair, his seraph blade raised above his head as they trained.

She loved Autumn, and for that, he detested it, for she was no longer there to enjoy it with him.

"Jace."

Alec stepped outside, reaching up to brush the dark hair from his blue eyes. He needed a haircut, desperately, but with Maryse's tendency to be demanding, and with the stress of the move, there hadn't been time.

"I'm coming." He said in a strained voice.

Alec nodded, and turned to go. "New York will be better."

Jace didn't reply. Leaving Idris, the only home he had ever known, should have made him emotional, perhaps even angry at his parents sudden decision to accept the Clave's offer to head the New York Institute, but he had stopped feeling anything long ago.

Leaving Idris was not a new start. No longer did they want to remain there, not without her.

He heard Alec call his name again, and he sighed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The leaf crunched under his boot as he walked away. He did not look back.

It was time to leave Idris, and any thoughts of Clary behind, far, far behind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Brooklyn**

 **4755 Dancing Dove Lane**

 **Apartment 12**

* * *

"Five minutes, _Clarissa_."

She rolled her eyes at the name. It didn't matter how many times she asked, begged, pleaded to be called _Clary_ , in the eyes of New York Children's Services, she would always be Clarissa Fray, sixteen, a Ward of the State, orphaned, unwanted.

She had been placed in so many homes, she lost count after a hundred.

"Hurry up."

With a sigh, she heaved the worn duffle bag she had had for too long onto the bed, and began to pile her few possessions into it; the tomboyish, second hand clothes that never seemed to fit quite right, her torn, tattered pairs of converse, and the art supplies that her best friend, Simon, had so kindly given to her every year since they were six.

"I'm coming!" Clary shouted back.

She reached for the final sketch book, only for it to slip from her grasp, strewing papers across the faded, stained carpet.

"Great." She mumbled.

She sat, tucking her legs underneath her as she began to gather them all together.

One in particular caught her eye.

Clary blinked in surprise. She was an artist, she could recall almost every piece she had ever created, and yet...

She couldn't remember drawing _this._

It was an oddly familiar piece, symmetric, open, the lines curved, and crossing.

What surprised her the most was that she had not drawn it once, or twice, but at least a dozen times, with dark, heavy, permanent ink, spread out across the page.

"What..."

There was a heavy knock against the wood of the door. "Clarissa!"

Quickly, she gathered the pages, shoving them into her bag. Despite her hurry, the image never left her mind, and for a moment, she wondered if she was hallucinating, but there it was, page after page filled with the same symbol.

"When did I..." Clary suddenly felt as if she couldn't breathe.

It wasn't possible. She would have known, _noticed_ herself drawing that... Whatever it was she had drawn.

"Clarissa!"

"I'm coming!"

Why was she drawing this?


	5. Chapter 5

**New York Institute**

* * *

He had never liked New York.

It was too busy, too crowded, too noisy, too full of _Mundanes_. Oh, how he detested the human world, so ignorant, so unaware of the dangers they faced every day.

He'd already unpacked his belongings, and with nothing better to do, he began to wander around his new _home_ , a word he used only in reluctance.

He lived at the Institute now, but it would never be a home to him.

No place would ever be _home_ to him again.

Not without _her._

It was not his first trip to the mundane world, nor was it his first visit to New York. He'd traveled to the Institute on occasion, along with his family, even going in October once.

While on a mission, she had gotten a glimpse of Central Park.

She'd stopped walking.

He had asked her a question, that was how he discovered she had fallen behind. When he went back to retrieve her, he'd found her standing there, invisible to all the mundanes, staring at the leaves in utter amazement as they fell from the tree.

 _Really, Clary?_

 _Jace._ She had replied. _It's beautiful._

He hadn't understood her excitement.

He knew that autumn was her favorite season, but leaves fell in Idris, every year. Somehow, being there was something magical for her, and he couldn't have loved her more in that moment. Their lives were so... _Cynical,_ but not with her, not with Clary.

She had seen the good, the beauty, in everything, in everyone.

She never got to go sit in the park, to draw those vibrant colors, and bring them to life.

Most of all, Jace hated New York because she was not there with him.

He could never again call any place home, not without her.

Max's room was coming up on the right. He poked his head in, expecting to find the eight-year-old practicing with one of the old throwing knives he had given him, or perhaps even reading one of the few books he owned.

Instead, he found his little brother sitting on his neatly made bed, clutching a picture frame.

Those fiery curls, those emerald green eyes were unmistakable.

Unforgettable.

"Max." He hissed, stalking forward. "What the hell are you doing?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin, his own gaze widening as it landed upon the second eldest of the Lightwood clan.

"J-Jace!" He stuttered. "I..."

Without a second thought, Jace snatched the frame from the little boy's hand, sending it scattering across the floor. The glass shattered.

"What the hell is going on?" Alec demanded, bursting through the door. Robert was right behind him.

He glanced between his two brothers, to the photo. His expression hardened at the sight of her brilliant smile.

"Jace." He hissed. "Take a walk."

Alec shoved his parabatai. Hard. Robert moved to wrap an arm around his youngest child.

"I..." Max whispered, blinking back tears. "I just wanted to remember..."

Jace regarded him coldly.

"You're the only one who does."


	6. Chapter 6

**807 Berkeley Place, Park Slope, Brooklyn, NY**

 **Clary's New Foster Home**

* * *

They were all the same.

That's what she had come to think of every place, every _house_ she had been sent to for just a little while, without ever hoping that it would become her _home._

Clary Fray did not belong anywhere.

She didn't have a home, she didn't have a mother, or a father, she didn't have a family. She was just Clarissa Fray, another Ward of the State, another unwanted child.

Her social worker had left, a little too quickly, after handing her over. Her newest foster mother, a woman named Faye, or was it Kaye, barely spared her a glance, merely pointing to a room in the back of her crummy apartment.

All of her belongings fit in one drawer of the dresser.

Her phone began to ring.

 _Simon._ She thought. _Thank god._

"Hey Fray." He greeted, before she could say _hello._

His voice was a comfort she had been longing for. Best friends since the age of six, when Clary transferred to his school after being placed in yet another home, Simon had been her constant, the one person she could count on in life.

"Hey Si."

"You okay?" Simon demanded. It was the same question he always asked her whenever she was sent to a new home.

And she always gave him the exact same answer. It was the only time she ever lied to him.

"I'm fine."

"Clary." He sighed, sounding as if he didn't believe her.

She rolled her eyes. "Simon, I'm-"

"I know." Simon replied. "You're fine. You're always fine. Wanna meet at the park in ten minutes and talk about it?"

A small smile graced her lips.

"Sure." Clary said. "I'll leave right..."

There was a heavy knock on the door.

"Clary?"

"Well, well." A voice muttered. "We sure got a pretty one, didn't we?"

Slowly, she turned around.


	7. Chapter 7

With a sigh, she wiped the sweat from her brow, and stepped back to survey her work.

 _Perfect._ She thought. _Absolutely perfect._

Finally, her shoes were organized, just like they had been in Idris.

She had just one box left to unpack, a few odds and ends she had thrown together at the last minute. She pulled the tabs upward, reaching for the first garment she could find.

A blue tank top with a design of Chinese flowers sewn across the front.

 _Clary's_ tank top, her favorite.

Which was exactly why Isabelle had taken it in the first place.

Isabelle held the shirt up, staring at it with disgust.

Though faded, there was still paint stains permanently imbedded into the fabric, there was a hole on the right side, just beneath the arm hole that Maryse must have sewn a thousand times.

She couldn't count just how many times she had thrown it away, only for Clary to retrieve it when she wasn't looking.

She wasn't ashamed to say that she had utterly detested the girl's wardrobe, for so many years, she had begged, pleaded, even forced Clary to change her tomboyish style, to stop wearing baggy clothing that hid the amazing figure she never believed she had.

Now, she would have given anything for the oversized sweatshirts, the jeans that were too long she almost always tripped over them, the t-shirts with slogans they didn't quite understand, because they hardly ever interacted with the mundane world, if it would have meant getting Clary back.

They fought, they argued, they went at it, but they also protected one another, loved one another, their hearts beating as one in battle.

They had been sisters.

Part of Isabelle had died that day too.

She was broken from her thoughts by yelling. Jace and Alec, of course. They were parabatai, but they were also brothers, forever butting heads.

Gently, she laid the shirt on her bed, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

Just as she started towards the door, she tripped, landing face first into her new plush white rug.

She lay there for a moment, laughing to herself. Usually, she was so graceful.

Clary was the klutz.

Alec had called her _Klutzy._

As she rose, she glanced in the mirror, wondering if she needed to fix her hair.

A gasp escaped her lips.

The fall had not been hard, and yet, there was a gash against her cheek.

The stinging came a second later. Isabelle cried out in pain.

 _Don't you_ _ever_ _talk back to me, bitch!_

Her eyes widened.

It couldn't be...

Could it?


	8. Chapter 8

**Cadman Plaza Park**

 **Forty-Five Minutes Later**

* * *

"Clary!" He called, the relief clear in his voice when he finally spotted her.

She was twenty minutes late, her thick curls pulled back into a braid, and the hood of her stained, yellow sweatshirt, really one of his that she had stolen nearly two years before, pulled so low it covered most of her face.

"Hi Si." She greeted in a quiet voice.

He knew her all too well.

Before Clary could protest, he seized her wrist, holding her in place as he yanked the hood down to fall around her shoulders.

Her eye was swelling, and there was a cut against her cheek, dried blood beneath it.

Simon's jaw tightened.

She was his best friend, the girl he had loved for longer than he could remember. He was supposed to protect her, always, forever, and he had failed. Again.

"Oh Clary." He mumbled.

And then she was in his arms, the uninjured side of her face pressed against his chest.

She let a tear fall.

She had talked back.

After being in over a hundred homes, she should have known better.

"I'm fine." Clary promised.

"Yeah?" Simon demanded, pulling back. His hands encircled her arms. "Well I'm not. This guy's a dead man."

She appreciated the sentiment behind his words, she really did, but Simon was no Alec.

Clary went rigid.

That name sounded so _familiar_ , so strangely familiar, however, it wasn't possible. She didn't know any Alec.

Despite the commonality of the name, there was no Alec in her life.

There was only a Simon, her sweet, loveable Simon, who couldn't hurt a fly.

"Simon." She begged, winding her arms around him again.

She was lucky enough to have someone in her life that knew, sometimes, the only thing she really needed was a friend.

His hand made circles across her back, his grip on her shoulders tightening.

"It's gonna be okay, Clary." He promised.

At that very moment, it was hard to imagine that everything would turn out to be alright, for it had been so long since she was _okay._

But with a friend like Simon by her side, she could almost believe him.


	9. Chapter 9

"Jace."

He threw an arm upward in response, a clear indicator that he did not want to discuss what had just happened.

That was the difference between the two; Jace could easily let things go. Alec could not.

"If you _ever_ snap at him like that again..."

"You'll what, Alec?" Jace challenged, his expression murderous. "You'll _what?"_

Brother, best friend, _parabatai_ or not, no one spoke to Max that way. Alec gave him another shove, pinning him against the wall with a firm grip on his shoulders.

"He's allowed to miss her, Jace." Alec mumbled.

No one was allowed to _miss_ someone who no longer existed, something Robert and Maryse had made very sure of. After the Rights of Mourning, they had been forbidden to even speak her name. Any and all photographs of her had been locked away, though he knew Isabelle had hidden a few, keeping them close to her always.

It was as if C...

It was as if _she_ had never been part of their world, of their family. All he had now were his memories, remembrances that haunted his deep into the night.

Her smile.

Her laugh.

Those emerald green eyes.

Unmistakable.

Unforgettable.

He remembered it all, and it almost killed him.

"Jace-"

His parabatai's gaze turned colder than ever before. "Do you?"

"What?"

"Do _you_ miss her, Alec?"

"Jace." He almost scolded. "How can you even ask-"

"Max shouldn't be so weak." Jace said. He wanted nothing more than to push away the elder boy standing in front of him, but he could never live with himself knowing he had hurt Alec, even in the slightest. "We're Shadowhunters, we shouldn't be ruled by our emotions. Isn't that what you always say?"

Alec's jaw tightened.

He had said that, many times over the years, and he wasn't proud to admit that more times than not, it had been aimed at the red head that never seemed far from his thoughts.

 _Why?  
_

Why couldn't he have swallowed his pride, just once, to tell her that he admired her compassion, that showing emotion hadn't made her weak, that he wished he could have been more like her?

If only he could have seen her one last time. He would have told her everything; that she was one of the best fighters he had ever know, that she had a beautiful heart, that despite everything he had ever said to her, everything he had ever done to her, he was grateful, so grateful for her constantly by his side, even when he was wrong, even when he threw a hurtful comment her way in a very childish attempt to toughen her up.

He would have told her that she was his sister, that he loved her, more than anything.

"Jace..."

"I don't want to talk about it." Jace hissed, shrugging from his grasp. He paused.

"Tell Max I'm sorry."

Alec watched him go, his heart nearly breaking beneath his seemingly tough exterior. Perhaps...

Perhaps Clary was not the only one who had been lost that day.


	10. Chapter 10

When the strap of her messenger bag slid down her arm, Simon pushed it back up absently, his fingers lingering at the bare skin of her shoulder.

She stared at him until he dropped his hand.

They were on their way to get Java Jones, a perfect outing for fall. She needed the warmth from the coffee she was about to get. It wasn't that she minded the cold, she loved Autumn, the leaves had already begun to change colors, but her jacket was old, worn, with a hole in one of the elbows. She knew if she allowed herself to shiver, Simon would immediately drape his own coat around her shoulders, and she didn't want that to happen.

He would have been cold, and if he gave her his jacket...

It could have meant _something._

Something that had no meaning. They were friends, best friends, definitely nothing more, and certainly nothing less.

"So." She said, in attempt to break the sudden awkwardness she felt. "What's up with the band? Anything new?"

She had to use the word _band_ so loosely; Simon had started it at the beginning of the year, along with his friends Eric, Matt and Kirk. Despite the months of practice, always faithfully in Eric's basement, they lacked...

They lacked _talent,_ not that she would ever tell him that.

Simon's face lit up.

"Things are great!" He said. "Matt knows someone who could get us a gig at the Scrap Bar. We're talking about names again too."

 _"Good."_ Clary mumbled under her breath. She had lost count at twenty.

The band had never produced any music; mostly they sat around, fighting about potential names and band logos. Sometimes, she wondered if any of them could actually play an instrument.

"What's on the table?"

"We're choosing between Sea Vegetable Conspiracy and Rock-Solid Panda."

She tried not to cringe. "Those are both terrible."

"Eric suggested Lawn Chair Crisis.

"Maybe Eric should stick to gaming." Clary suggested.

Video games were the main reason he never turned his homework in on time.

Simon frowned. "But then we'd have to find a new drummer."

"Is _that_ what Eric does?" Clary asked, feigning surprise. "I thought he just mooched money off you and went around telling girls at school that he was in a band in order to impress them."

"Not at all." Simon sighed. "Eric has turned over a new leaf. He has a girlfriend. They've been going out for three months."

"Practically married." She joked, stepping around a couple pushing a toddler in a stroller.

The little girl wore yellow plastic clips in her hair, and clutched a pixie doll with gold-streaked sapphire wings.

Out of the corner of her eye Clary thought she saw the wings flutter.

She turned her head hastily.

"I'm the last member of the band not to have a girlfriend." He grumbled. "Which, you know, is the whole point of being in a band. To get girls."

"I thought it was all about the music."

She stepped off the curb just as a car zoomed past them.

Simon yanked hard on her arm, pulling her back into him. Clary moved away from him.

"Who cares if you have a girlfriend, anyway?"

"I care." Simon replied. "Pretty soon the only people left without a girlfriend will be me and Wendell the school janitor. And he smells like Windex."

"At least you know he's still available."

He glowered at her. "Not funny, Fray."

"There's always Sheila 'The Thong' Barbarino." She offered.

Clary had sat behind Sheila in math class in ninth grade; every time she dropped her pencil, which had been often, Clary was treated to the sight of the girl's underwear riding up above the waistband of her super-low-rise jeans. Not a pleasant sight.

"That is who Eric's been dating for the past three months." Simon responded, and she wondered how she hadn't known that. "His advice, meanwhile, was that I ought to just decide which girl in school had the most rockin' bod and ask her out before midterms."

"Eric is a sexist pig." She told him. She didn't want to know which girl in school Simon thought had the most 'rockin' bod.' "Maybe you should call the band _The Sexist Pigs_."

Simon seemed unfazed. "It has a ring to it."

Clary made a face at him. They were almost to the coffee shop now, trying to maneuver past the crowded sidewalks of Brooklyn. A boy on a skateboard brushed past her, and she would have face planted had Simon not been directly behind her.

"Whoa." His set her upright. "Careful there, Klutzy."

Clary glared at him. "Don't call me that. Ever."

Simon held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry..."

Why she had gotten so angry over the nickname, she didn't know. She sighed, giving his arm an apologetic squeeze.

"What's that?" He asked.

It suddenly dawned on her that there was a flyer, balled up in her fist. Carefully, she unfolded it, her eyes scanning the page.

"It's for a Halloween party." She read aloud. "With a costume contest... At some place called _Pandemonium_."


	11. Chapter 11

Maryse surveyed her children as they filed into the room one by one.

Alec was first, dropping down into the chair closest to the desk, Isabelle followed him, choosing to perch on the couch, as far from her mother as she could get. Max sat in between his siblings; although he was still too young to go on missions, he didn't even have his first rune yet, he still sat quietly for every meeting, eagerly listening to what it was the elder Shadowhunters would be doing.

Jace was the last to enter. He didn't take a seat, instead leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed, and that permanent scowl she had come to despite on his face.

There was a clear indicator that someone very important was missing.

Maryse wondered if that haunting feeling, expecting _her_ to follow along behind the other children she loved, the ones she hadn't lost, for her to sit beside Isabelle, the two girls giggling back and forth when they were supposed to be paying attention. She always seemed to be glancing over her shoulder as she watched Jace and Alec train, expecting, _hoping_ to see Clarissa, her beautiful, talented Clarissa, sketching away, each time perfectly capturing the determination in

Alec's eyes, and the smirk Jace had once displayed whenever he was victorious.

"What's the mission?" Alec demanded.

He was refusing to look at Jace.

Maryse resisted the urge to sigh; she knew all about their earlier altercation, she was sure the entire Institute did, the two boys had been loud enough in their squabble, but she refused to take sides, as Robert, Alec and Isabelle had.

She saw both sides of the argument. Max _was_ still a child, of course he was allowed to miss Clarissa. They all did, even if they didn't show it.

And yet...

She was the one who had packed away all the photographs, the memories, the keepsakes. She was the one who had locked Clarissa's bedroom door, forbidding everyone from ever entering it.

She had willingly spoken her name for the last time, _Clarissa Fairchild,_ before moving back to stand beside everyone she had ever known, chanting the familiar Latin words _Hail and Farewell._

She had not cried. Not on the outside.

"Just a moment, Alec." She said, holding up a hand to cut him off. "There's something I need to-"

"You're going back to Idris." Isabelle spat, her expression mirroring that of Jace's. "Aren't you?"

They would have stayed, if they could.

How she wished her daughter could understand, _believe_ that.

Alec nodded.

"When will you be back?" He asked.

"Soon." Maryse promised.

 _The sooner the better._ She thought.

She hated being away from them. Her children were her life, and she would have gladly laid her own on the line if it meant saving theirs.

But...

Sometimes, she found herself struck with the fear that something would happen to one of them. The truth was, as much as she wanted to protect them, she knew she could not.

How could she protect _them_ when she had not protected _her_ , a child that perhaps she had not given birth to, but had loved just the same?

She had failed Clarissa when she needed her the most, and for that, she would never forgive herself.


	12. Chapter 12

She scowled at her reflection.

Her costume looked ridiculous.

She hadn't planned on dressing up; she hadn't even wanted to _go_ , but Simon had nearly begged her, which was so out of character for him, that she had shrugged, agreeing a moment later with a _what the hell?_ response.

If Simon was willing to go out of his comfort zone, then she could be too.

There was only one problem.

As a Ward of the State, she had no money to her name, and thus, she could not afford to purchase a costume.

Simon, always to the rescue, had dragged her up to his attic, and there she had sat for over two hours, bored out of her mind as he dug through box after box, trying to find one of his older sister's, Rebecca's, costumes.

The only one that fit was an angel, so she wore a shorter-than-she-would-have-liked white dress, a pair of glittery wings, and uncomfortable gladiator sandals.

A headband rested on top of her curls, a golden halo attached to it.

Simon was on his way to get her, along with Kirk, Matt, Eric, and Maureen, who seemed to be hanging around more and more lately.

It was pretty obvious that she had a thing for Simon. He was the only one who hadn't noticed.

With one last glance in the mirror, she flipped her hair, and stepped out of the tiny bedroom she could not call her own.

Her foster father lay passed out on the couch.

Clary stared at the man in utter disgust.

After their initial meeting, him slapping her across the face when she had tried to remove herself from the situation, he had gone out of his way to avoid her. Her swollen eye, and the cut on her cheek had not even begun to heal.

She hadn't bothered to cover them. Instead, she lied, easily, telling anyone who had asked that she had run into a door. Only Simon knew the truth, and like the amazing best friend he was, he backed her up, even adding himself to the lie, saying that he was the one who threw the door open, that he was unable to catch it before it could strike Clary.

Her phone buzzed, a text from Simon, telling her that he had arrived. She practically flew outside, eager to escape her hellish life, to have an unforgettable night with her friends.

She had no way of knowing just _how_ unforgettable the night would be.


	13. Chapter 13

"Izzy." Alec called as he rounded the corridor. It was easy to get lost in the Institute, with so many hallways, and bedrooms hidden away in what the mundane world thought was just an abandoned church. "Let's go."

Isabelle forced a smile as she exited her room. "Hey there, big bro."

He gave her the once over, shaking his head in annoyance as he took in the matching leather shirt and skirt, her too-high high heels, and the wig, balanced carefully on her right hand.

 _"Really?"_

"What can I say? Demons dig blondes."

"Of course they do." He grumbled.

He hated the thought of anyone, let alone a disgusting, miserable demon _lusting_ after his sister, but that was Isabelle, confident, and comfortable with her body.

He would never try to change her.

Alec pointed to the false hair. "That's white."

"Platinum." Isabelle corrected. "And they don't exactly like Shakespeare, okay, Alec?"

"You're plenty distracting on your own."

"So, be yourself." She said, raising an eye brow. "Is that what you're trying to say?"

He waved her away. "Never mind. Looking good, let's go. We're ready, Jace."

His parabatai turned to face him, his expression more relaxed than it had been earlier. There was no tension between the brothers, they had just needed time to cool off.

"Nice choice, Izzy." Jace nodded in approval. "Demons dig blondes."

Isabelle grinned at him smugly. "Told you."

"It's _platinum_." Alec insisted.

Jace gestured to the screen in front of him, already bored of the conversation. "All right, guys, for some reason our demon friends are killing mundanes and draining their blood."

"Why do they want blood? Isn't that vampire territory?"

"I don't know, Alec, lazy vampires, maybe?" He sighed. "There must be something special about their blood."

The eldest Lightwood scoffed. "What could be special about mundane blood?"

"You get me a sample and I'll tell you exactly what they're looking for."

Jace let his shoulders drop in an uninterested shrug. "We'll have more answers when we figure out exactly who the demons are working for."

"So, you don't think they're acting on their own?"

"No. They're not exactly creative thinkers, they're shapeshifters." He pointed to the screen. "This is what our target looks like."

Isabelle brushed a finger across the cool silver of her whip. "For now."


	14. Chapter 14

She waited until Robert had busied himself in a conversation with the Inquisitor before slipping from the room.

She needed air, she needed space.

Imogene had asked how it felt to be _home._

Maryse found herself maneuvering down a familiar corridor; her eyes scanning each door as she passed it. The familiar letters etched into the dark wood was of little comfort.

 _A.  
_

 _J.  
_

 _I._

She paused at the last door.

 _C.  
_

Idris was not home.

Lightwood Manor was not home.

She could never again call another place _home._

Not without _her_.

It had taken her to agree to allow her children to reside in the same hallway. As toddlers in the nursery, they had been nuisance enough, constantly interrupting one another's slumber, staying up later than any child should, playing intricate games that only the four of them could understand. It had taken much deliberation, but she had finally relented, giving them the hallway furthest from her own,

Things had only gotten worse as they grew.

Alec and Jace trained throughout the night, the sound of their seraph blades clanking against the other nearly deafening, while the girls stayed awake talking, giggling, trading secrets. They had made no attempts to quiet themselves. Often, all four would stay up, sneaking into Clarissa's room after saying goodnight to herself and Robert. Perhaps they tried to be quiet, but almost every night, she would find herself storming into the fifteen-year-old's dwelling to shout at them, to threaten extra chores, to escort each teen back to their own bedroom, only for them to return after she left.

Once, she had told Robert that having four adolescents under one roof was a punishment she would not wish upon her worst enemy. Now, she would have given anything to hear the four laughing until three o'clock in the morning, knowing they would have to be up in just a few hours, but not caring enough to retire for the evening.

Instinctively, she reached for the key, the one she always kept close to her, and pulled it out.

Her room had been forbidden territory for so long. With a shaking hand, Maryse pushed the door open.

Her clothes still hung in the closet; photographs of the family still rested on the mantel. Her arm supplies, gathering dust, were on the desk. A picture frame had been placed on the bed, two familiar chains strewn across it.

The necklaces her daughters had worn until that fateful day.

She allowed a tear to fall.

She still thought of Clarissa every day; it was like someone had emptied her lungs of air, and she would catch at her heart, afraid she too, was dying.


	15. Chapter 15

**Pandemonium**

 **8:27 PM**

* * *

The bouncer at Pandemonium frowned, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his head. "You can't bring that thing in here."

Clary leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement.

So far, the night had not been what she was hoping.

Her foster father had woken up after she accidently let the door slam shut behind her. There had been a rushed confrontation in the hallway, and now, she had a bruised arm, and a drying cut on her opposite cheek to match the new one.

Eric thought it was makeup, that she was some kind of demonic angel, and she had gone along with it, shooting Simon a look in the process to warn him that he was not to get involved.

In the morning, her foster mother would glance at her and shrug, promising her that she would get her some makeup later in the week, before her eyes would narrow, and she would threaten Clary, telling her that it would only get worse if she breathed word about the abuse to anyone.

"Aw, come on." The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. "It's part of my costume."

The bouncer raised an eyebrow. "Which is what?"

He grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips.

"I'm a vampire hunter." He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. "It's fake. Foam rubber. See?"

The boy's wide eyes were way too bright a green, Clary noticed: the color of antifreeze, spring grass.

Colored contact lenses, probably.

 _Focus, Clary._

 _You know how to see through the glamour._

 _It isn't safe for Simon to be here._

 _Go home._

 _Home?_ Clary thought, blinking in surprise. _But... I don't have a home._

The bouncer shrugged, abruptly bored. "Whatever. Go on in."

The boy slid past him, quick as an eel.

"You thought he was cute." Simon accused, sounding resigned. Maureen rolled her eyes. "Didn't you?"

Clary dug her elbow into his ribs, but didn't answer.

The boy was admittedly not the worst looking person she had ever seen, though it was not his looks that had intrigued her.

Not really, anyway.

There was something about him...

 _It's not safe._ An almost too-familiar voice in her head said. _Don't go in._

She blinked in surprise.

The line began to move again. Simon touched her arm.

"Clary, come on."


	16. Chapter 16

Inside, the club was full of dry-ice smoke.

Colored lights played over the dance floor, turning it into a multicolored fairyland of blues and acid greens, hot pinks and golds.

The mission was to discover who it was that wanted mundane blood, though Jace already had his suspicions. If he was correct, which he almost always was, then Valentine Morgenstern would die a slow, painful death. He would make sure of that.

He watched as the boy in the red jacket stroked the long razor-sharp blade in his hands, an idle smile playing over his lips.

It had been so easy, Jace knew, a little bit of a glamour on the blade, to make it look harmless. Another glamour on his eyes, and the moment the bouncer had looked straight at him, he was in. He could have gotten by without all that trouble, but it was part of the fun-fooling the mundies, doing it all out in the open right in front of them, getting off on the blank looks on their sheep like faces.

He scanned the dance floor, where slender limbs clad in scraps of silk and black leather appeared and disappeared inside the revolving columns of smoke as the mundies danced. Girls tossed their long hair, boys swung their leather-clad hips, and bare skin glittered with sweat. Vitality just poured off them, waves of energy that probably filled him with a drunken dizziness.

His lip curled.

Isabelle broke away from the mass of dancers and began walking toward him.

Jace grinned tightly at Alec.

Demons really _did_ dig blondes.

Isabelle smiled as she passed him, expertly beckoning with her eyes.

The demon followed along behind her.


	17. Chapter 17

"So." Simon said. "Pretty good music, eh?"

Maureen had begged him to dance, but he'd awkwardly refused, instead choosing not to leave her side, much to Clary's annoyance.

She loved Simon, she really did, but sometimes, she just wanted _space_.

They were standing in a space between a group of teenage boys in metallic corsets, and a young Asian couple who were making out passionately, their colored hair extensions tangled together like vines. A boy with a lip piercing and a teddy bear backpack was handing out free tablets of herbal ecstasy, his parachute pants flapping in the breeze from the wind machine. Clary wasn't paying much attention to their immediate surroundings-her eyes were on the blue-haired boy who'd talked his way into the club. He was prowling through the crowd as if he were looking for something.

There was something about the way he moved that reminded her of…

"I, for one, am enjoying myself immensely." Simon added.

Clary wasn't convinced; Simon, as always, stuck out at the club like a sore thumb, even in the same pirate costume he had been wearing since the seventh grade. His freshly scrubbed hair was dark brown instead of green or pink, and his glasses perched crookedly on the end of his nose. He looked less as if he were contemplating the powers of darkness and more as if he were on his way to chess club.

"Whatever you say, Si."

The blue-haired boy was making his way off the dance floor.

He looked a little lost, as if he hadn't found whom he was looking for. Clary wondered what would happen if she went up and introduced herself, offered to show him around. Maybe he'd just stare at her, or maybe he was shy too. Maybe he'd be grateful and pleased, and try not to show it, the way boys did, but she'd know.

Maybe...

He straightened up suddenly, snapping to attention, like a hunting dog on point.

Clary followed the line of his gaze, and saw the girl in the white dress.

She tried not to feel like a deflated party balloon. The girl was gorgeous, the kind of girl she wished she could be; tall and ribbon-slim, with a long spill of black hair. Even at this distance Clary could see the red pendant around her throat.

It pulsed under the lights of the dance floor like a separate, disembodied heart.

 _I wish I could be more like her.  
_

 _Don't you ever change a thing about yourself._

"Clary?"

She didn't answer, her attention was on the girl in the white dress. Through the darkness, smoke, and artificial fog, her pale dress shone out like a beacon. No wonder the blue-haired boy was following her as if he were under a spell, too distracted to notice anything else around him, even the two dark shapes hard on his heels, weaving after him through the crowd.

She could just make out that the shapes were boys, tall and wearing black clothes. She couldn't have said how she knew that they were following the other boy, but she did. She could see it in the way they paced him, their careful watchfulness, the slinking grace of their movements.

A small flower of apprehension began to open inside her chest.

The girl was making her way towards the back of the club, VIP only, Clary suspected.

She beckoned the blue-haired boy after her, and they slipped through the door. It wasn't anything Clary hadn't seen before, a couple sneaking off to the dark corners of the club to make out, but that made it even weirder that they were being followed. She raised herself up on tiptoe, trying to see over the crowd.

The two guys seemed to be conferring with each other. One of them was blonde, the other dark-haired. The blonde one reached into his jacket and drew out something long and sharp that flashed under the strobing lights.

A knife.

"Simon!" Clary shouted, and seized his arm.


	18. Chapter 18

"Who _are_ you?"

She turned.

The club was crowded, but they were alone, the glamour hiding their every move. Alec and Jace would soon be joining her, but for now she had to be the distraction.

She had to keep pretending.

"Isabelle."

"That's a nice name." He walked toward her. "I haven't seen you here before."

Isabelle struggled to keep her smile genuine.

Demons disgusted her.

Clary was always the better decoy; her natural warmth never gave her away.

"You're asking me if I come here often?" She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

Her whip gleamed in the limited light.

As he neared her, he caught sight of the pattern inked into her skin, a matrix of swirling lines.

He froze. "You-"

He didn't finish. Isabelle moved with lightning swiftness, striking out at him with her open hand, a blow to his chest that would have sent him down gasping if he'd been a human being. He staggered back, and now there was something in her hand, a coiling whip that glinted gold as she brought it down, curling around his ankles, jerking him off his feet. He hit the ground, writhing, the hated metal biting deep into his skin.

Isabelle laughed, standing over him.

He tried to move, to fight back, but she yanked hard on the whip, securing it. Her smile glittered like poisonous water.

"He's all yours, boys."

A low chuckle sounded behind him, and now there were hands on him, hauling him upright, throwing him against one of the concrete pillars. He could feel the damp stone under his back. His hands were pulled behind him, his wrists bound with wire. Jace entered his line of sight.

"So." He said. "Are there any more with you?"

The blue-haired boy could feel blood welling up under the too-tight metal, making his wrists slippery. "Any other what?"

"Come on now." Jace's dark sleeves slipped down, showing the runes inked all over his wrists, the backs of his hands, his palms. "You know what I am."

Far back inside his skull, the shackled boy's second set of teeth began to grind.

"Shadowhunter," He hissed.

A sinister grin spread across his face.

He would have his revenge.

Soon.

"Got you." He said.


	19. Chapter 19

_"What?"_ Simon looked alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"Did you see those guys?" She pointed wildly, almost hitting the person dancing nearby.

The girl shot her an evil look.

"Sorry! I... Sorry!" Clary turned back to Simon. "Did you see those two guys over there?"

He squinted, then shrugged. "I don't see anything."

"There were two of them!" She insisted. She was _not_ going crazy. "They were following the guy with the blue hair-"

"The one you thought was cute?"

Clary could have smacked him. "That's not the point! The blonde one pulled a knife."

"Are you sure?" Simon stared harder, shaking his head. "I still don't see anyone."

"I'm sure."

Suddenly all business, he squared his shoulders.

"I'll get one of the security guards. You stay here."

He strode away, pushing through the crowd.

Clary turned in time to see the blonde boy start towards the black of the club, his friend right on his heels.

She looked around; Simon was still trying to shove his way across the dance floor, but he wasn't making much progress. Even if she yelled now, no one would hear her, and by the time Simon got back, something terrible might already have happened.

She could only watch in horror as the blonde boy readied his weapon.

Suddenly, she felt hazy.

That boy...

He was so...

Her side began to sting, burn, and the dark-haired girl staggered.

Clary found herself moving forward, as if to comfort her.

 _Izzy._


	20. Chapter 20

Izzy." He heard Alec mumble. "You okay?"

She nodded, her palm still pressed against her forehead. "I... Yeah. I'm fine."

Pushing his concern for his sister aside, he turned back to the creature, his eyes dark, dangerous.

"So." He said. "You still haven't told me if there are any other of your kind with you."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The blue-haired boy replied, his tone pained, surly.

"He means other _demons_." Alec hissed. "You do know what a demon is, don't you?"

"Demons." Jace added. "Religiously defined as hell's denizens, the servants of Satan, but understood here, for the purposes of the Clave, to be any malevolent spirit whose origin is outside our own home dimension-"

"That's enough, Jace." Isabelle snapped.

He cast a glance in her direction, frowning. Missions usually put her in a good mood, but the girl in front of him was not the Isabelle he knew. She was pale, beads of sweat dripped from her forehead, and she looked as if she might faint.

"Izzy's right." The eldest Lightwood agreed. "Nobody here needs a lesson in semantics-or demonology."

Jace laughed bitterly.

"You guys think I talk too much." He said, confidingly. "Do _you_ think I talk too much?"

The demon didn't answer.

"I hear you've been pedaling mundane blood."

Finally, he too, laughed, a manic sound.

"Why? Are you looking to score?"

"I'm not. But you're gonna tell me who is."

The blue haired boy smiled. "You're outnumbered here."

Jace brushed a finger across the edge of his blade. "I like our odds."

Alec moved to wrap an arm around his sister, as if he were afraid that she would collapse at any moment.

"Kill it, Jace." Isabelle ordered. "It's not going to tell us anything."

Jace raised his hand, the strobe lights sparking off the knife he was holding.

"See you in hell." He whispered.

He plunged the blade into the creature's chest.

A blood curdling scream pierced the air.

It had not come from the demon.

Jace whirled around, so startled that the knife flew from his hand and clattered against the concrete floor.

He joined the thousands of shocked gazes, fixated on one girl in particular.

A girl with fiery curls, her eyes emerald green eyes widening with surprise as they met his own.

Unmistakable.

Unforgettable.

 _Clary._


	21. Chapter 21

"Clary." Simon grumbled, finally glancing at her while stopped at a red light.

She refused to meet his gaze.

After her scream halted the party, she had been all but escorted out by the bouncer Simon had gone to alert. Simon had kept an arm around her, telling the group that she was just in shock, and that she needed sleep before pushing her towards the exit.

All their friends thought she was crazy, she wouldn't have blamed him if he thought so too.

"Simon..."

"I don't believe you." He accused. "I don't believe those guys with the knives just disappeared."

Clary sighed, wanting nothing more than for him to drop it. "Maybe there weren't any guys with knives, Simon, maybe I just imagined the whole thing."

The light turned green, and he hit the gas, lurching them forward. She was staying at his house for the night; he had insisted, too nervous to return her to the apartment she currently resided in.

"No way." Simon insisted. "I saw your face, Clary. You looked seriously freaked out, like you'd seen a ghost."

 _No, not a ghost_. She thought. _Something even weirder than that._

"It was just a mistake." She said wearily.

She wondered why she wasn't telling him the truth. Except, of course, that he'd think she was crazy. And there was something about what had happened, something about the blonde boy, how their eyes had met, something about the stinging she had felt against her side, something about the hazy feeling, like she was waking up from a horrible dream, something about the name _Izzy_ , the one that had rolled so effortlessly off her tongue that she wanted to keep to herself.

"Well, it was one hell of an embarrassing mistake." Simon told her. "I doubt they'll ever let us back into Pandemonium."

"You hate Pandemonium." She replied distractedly.

"Clary." He sighed, reaching out to rest a hand on her knee. She shrank away, and he pulled it back, his expression indifferent. "Look, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

 _You are unlike any girl I have ever met, Clarissa Fairchild.  
_

 _Isn't that what you've always loved about me, Jace Lightwood?  
_

"Clary?"

Clary hesitated a moment, then nodded, trying to shake off her strange feeling.

"Sure, Simon." She said. "I know I can."

But she wasn't sure if she could.


	22. Chapter 22

"That's it." Alec hissed, moving to stand in front of his sister. "All the demon venom must have finally gotten to you."

Slowly, Jace raised his head. There were dark circles under his eyes. "Alec-"

"You're crazy!" He shouted. "Nuts!"

Isabelle said nothing.

The hazy feeling that had over taken her at Pandemonium had yet to fade.

If anything, it had intensified, she felt light headed, as if she were walking on clouds. Alec, much to her annoyance, had insisted on carrying her back to the Institute.

Jace had moved at an uncharacteristically slow pace, falling so far behind that he had arrived ten minutes after them.

The moment she caught sight of the haunted expression on his face, sweat dripping from his brow, she quickly ushered the two boys to her bedroom, certain that whatever he had to say was meant for only the three of them to hear.

"Alec..."

Alec crossed the room, bringing both hands down to rest heavily on their brother's shoulders.

"Jace." He muttered, his tone surprisingly calm given the situation. "You're stressed, exhausted, delirious."

"I know what I saw, Alec!" Jace snapped, shoving him away.

Alec's even-temper disappeared almost immediately.

"You didn't see _Clary!_ " He yelled, and Isabelle winced at the mention of her name. it seemed like forever since someone had dared to say it aloud. "She has been _dead_ for _two years!"_

"Alec-" Jace warned.

"Why are you doing this?" Alec demanded. "To me, to Izzy, to yourself?"

"Alec..."

"Clary is gone, Jace." He said, turning away from his brother. "She's gone, and she's never coming back. It's time for you to let her go... It's time for _all_ of us to let go."

Jace shook his head. "You know I can't do that."

"Jace-"

"Let me look into this." He begged.

Alec didn't respond.

"Please." He added, his tone a mixture of desperation and determination Alec felt he hadn't heard in so long.

Alec knew Jace well enough to know that even without his permission, he would still do what he wanted. He had always been reckless that day.

He also knew that his brother never lied. If he said that he saw Clary...

 _No._ Alec thought.

He couldn't go there. She was gone, she was never coming back.

"Alec?"

"Alec." Isabelle echoed.

"Fine." Alec let his shoulders drop in an uninterested shrug. "Do what you want, search for this girl that you think is Clary, let your heart break again when you realize that I'm right, that she's dead, I don't care. You're on your own."


	23. Chapter 23

**Idris**

 **Two Years Ago**

 **Lightwood Manor**

* * *

With a grin, she tossed a third pebble upwards, slapping a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing as the balcony doors swung open.

"Clary." He called, his tone filled with irritation for her interrupting what she and Isabelle had labeled his _beauty sleep_ so long ago.

She didn't answer.

"Clary." He said again, a little more loudly this time.

Finally, he appeared, his hands gripping the banister as he glared down at her. He was shirtless, his many runes proudly displayed across his torso and arms.

She laughed out loud, any fear of waking Robert or Maryse quickly vanishing. He seemed to have that effect on her; just the sight of him made her forget her worries.

He was trying to look angry, but the amusement in his eyes gave him away.

"What the hell are you doing?" He asked, his lips twitching as a grin threatened to escape.

She yanked the band that had held her hair back away, allowing her untamable curls to spill out across her back, reaching just below her waist.

"Throwing rocks at your window." She replied.

"Any particular reason?"

"No." She said, ducking her head before he could see her blush. Of course there was a reason. There was always a reason when it came to him.

He sighed. "Clary..."

Suddenly, she was flying through the air, landing effortlessly beside him.

He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. Slowly, he raised a hand, brushing a few strays of flaming red strands from her face.

His palm was warm against her cheek.

Her fingers locked around his wrist.

"You are unlike any girl I have ever met, Clarissa Fairchild."

"Isn't that what you've always loved about me, Jace Lightwood?" She retorted.

Jace's smile grew, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against her own.

"Always." He whispered.

* * *

 **Present Day**

 **Simon's Apartment**

* * *

 _Always._

She woke with a start.

 _"Forever."_ She said, out of habit.

It was their promise.

Always.

Forever.

The four of them.

Permanent.

Always.

Forever.

A hand rested heavily on her shoulder, squeezing softly. Electricity show through her entire body, goosebumps spreading across her arms.

The feeling that only came about whenever _he_ was around.

"Hey." A familiar voice mumbled. "It's okay, I'm here, you're safe."

And he was there, his heterochromia eyes brooding with great concern.

She wanted to grab him, to wind her arms around his torso, bury her face into the crook of his neck, and hold on for dear life. She never wanted to be away from him again.

"Jace." She whispered, her tone clear with relief.

"What?" He asked, raising a brow in confusion.

He was gone.

Her heart ached for a moment, but just as quickly, she snapped back to reality, struggling to focus on the boy sitting in front of her.

"You all right? You still seem kind of freaked."

"Simon." Clary said, much less enthusiastically.

"Hey." Simon greeted, his hand still on her shoulder. "I got you. You're okay."

She blinked several times in a row.

"Must have been one hell of a dream."

"You have no idea." Clary replied. She threw the blanket he had covered her with earlier back, and sat up.

Who was _Jace?  
_

 _Always._

 _Forever._

A wave of dizziness came over her, the strong sensation that she was going to faint.

Simon glanced at her uneasily. "Are you sure you're all right? You look like you're going to pass out."

"What?" It took her a moment to process his words. "No, I'm fine."

He didn't seem to want to let it drop. "You look like you've just saw a ghost."

She shook her head. The memory of the blonde boy from the night before, _Jace_ , she had known him, at least for a moment, but when she tried to concentrate, it slid away like water.

"I haven't eaten anything since yesterday." Clary defended. "I guess I'm a little out of it."

He slid a comforting arm around her shoulders, only for her to shy away from his touch.

"Come on." He said with a sigh, rising to his feet. "I'll buy you some food."


	24. Chapter 24

Neither she nor Alec had seen the girl that Jace was so sure was Clary.

They had only seen their brother standing there, his expression pained, haunted.

He hadn't gone to bed, though she didn't need to look at him to know that. With her hearing rune, she had lay awake for hours, listening to him furiously typing away.

He was determined, he would not rest until he had the answers he was so desperately seeking.

"Jace."

His back was to her, his eyes glued to the screen. She read the words just as easily.

 _No results found._

"They should still have records of her." Isabelle said, interjecting before she could stop herself. "The Silent Brothers keep records of every Shadowhunter there ever was."

Jace raked a hand through his greasy hair, still refusing to meet her gaze.

"I didn't search for Clarissa Fairchild."

She hadn't agreed with Alec when he told Jace that he was on his own, but she hadn't shown her second brother any support either. She didn't know what to think.

Jace never lied. Even if he knew that the truth would hurt, he still gave it.

It couldn't have been easy to go up against the two hardened Lightwoods, his parabatai, and his pain-in-the-ass little sister, and claim that Clary, her parabatai, Alec's pain-in-the-ass little sister, Jace's soul mate, though the pair had thoroughly denied having anything other than platonic feelings for one another, always so stubborn, the girl they had spent the last two years missing, the girl they had refused to talk about, the girl whose last words, _t_ _e amo in aeternum,_ haunted Isabelle any time she closed her eyes, was alive and well, hanging around a _mundane_ of all people.

"What?" She asked. "Then who have you been-"

"That kid." Jace said, his gaze still fixated on the screen. "The _mundie_ she was with last night called her Clary _Fray."_

Isabelle blinked.

 _Clary_ , hanging with a _mundane?_

Unlikely.

She hadn't thought much of the human world, not that Isabelle had ever noticed, anyway. She had protected mundies out of duty, and never discussed them any further.

The Clary she had known and loved wouldn't have been caught dead giving a mundie the time of day.

Jace had to be wrong this time, for more reasons than that.

She had known how much they loved her, she had known that she was a member of the Lightwood family, not in name, or by blood, but in heart, which mattered more than anything else.

She had known that she and Jace belonged together, even if she had never let herself admit it.

If Clary _was_ alive, then why would she have stayed away?

"Izzy." Jace mumbled.

She turned to face him.

"There is no record of _Clary Fray_ ever existing."


	25. Chapter 25

By the time they got to Java Jones, Eric was already onstage, swaying back and forth in front of the microphone with his eyes squinted shut. He'd dyed the tips of his hair pink for the occasion. Behind him, Matt, looking stoned, was beating irregularly on a djembe.

Stupidly, she had agreed to accompany him to Eric's poetry reading.

"This is going to suck so hard." Clary predicted. She grabbed Simon's sleeve and tugged him toward the doorway. "If we make a run for it, we can still get away."

He shook his head determinedly. "I'm nothing if not a man of my word. I'll get the coffee if you find us a seat. What do you want?"

"Just coffee. Black, like my soul."

Simon headed off toward the coffee bar, muttering under his breath something to the effect that it was a far, far better idea that he did it _now_ rather than later. Without a second thought, Clary went to find them a seat.

The coffee shop was crowded for a Sunday; most of the threadbare-looking couches and armchairs were taken up with teenagers enjoying the last day of the weekend. The smell of coffee and clove cigarettes was overwhelming. Finally, Clary found an unoccupied love seat in a darkened corner toward the back. The only other person nearby was a blond girl in an orange tank top, absorbed in playing with her iPod.

 _Good._ She thought. _Eric won't be able to find us back here after the show to ask how his poetry was.  
_

The blond girl leaned over the side of her chair suddenly and tapped Clary on the shoulder. "Excuse me."

Clary looked up in surprise.

"Is that your boyfriend?" The girl asked.

Clary followed her gaze, already prepared to say: _No, I don't know him_ , when she realized the girl meant _Simon_. He was headed toward them, face scrunched up in concentration as he tried not to drop either of his Styrofoam cups.

"No." Clary said. "He's a friend of mine." _  
_

The girl beamed. "He's cute. Does he have a girlfriend?"

She shook her head. "No."

The blond girl sat back hastily as Simon set the cups on the table and threw himself down next to Clary _  
_

"I hate it when they run out of mugs. Those things are hot." He blew on his fingers and scowled.

Clary tried to hide a smile as she watched him.

Normally she never thought about whether Simon was good-looking or not. He had pretty dark eyes, she supposed, and he'd filled out well over the past year or so. With the right haircut-

"You're staring at me." Simon accused, his eyes widening. "Why are you staring at me? Have I got something on my face?"

"Don't look now, but that blond girl over there thinks you're cute."

Simon turned his head to stare at the girl, who was industriously studying an issue of Shonen Jump. "The girl in the orange top?"

Clary nodded.

Simon seemed dubious. "What makes you think so?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "She told me so?"

His reply was interrupted by a burst of feedback.

Clary winced and covered her ears as Eric, onstage, wrestled with his microphone.

"Sorry about that, guys!" He yelled. "All right, yo! I'm Eric, and this is my homeboy, Matt, on the drums. My first poem is called 'Untitled.'"

Eric screwed up his face as if in pain, and began to wail into the mike. "Come, my faux juggernaut, my nefarious loins! Slather every protuberance with arid zeal!"

Simon slid down in his seat. "Please don't tell anyone I know him."

Clary giggled. "Who uses the word _loins?"_

"Eric." He said grimly. "All his poems have _loins_ in them."

"Turgid is my torment!" Eric cried. "Agony swells within!"

"You bet it does." Clary mumbled. "Anyway, about that girl who thinks you're cute-"

"Never mind that for a second." Simon held up a hand to cut her off, and Clary blinked at him in surprise. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Furious Mole is not a good name for a band."

"Not that." He grumbled. "It's about what we were talking about a few days ago, about me not having a girlfriend."

She blinked again, only vaguely being able to recall the conversation.

"Oh." Clary lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Oh, I don't know, Si. Ask Jaida Jones out. She's nice, and she likes you."

"I don't _want_ to ask Jaida Jones out."

"Why not?" She demanded. "You don't like smart girls? Still seeking a rockin' bod?"

"Neither." He seemed agitated now. "I don't want to ask her out because it wouldn't really be fair to her if I did..."

He trailed off.

Clary leaned forward. From the corner of her eye she could see the blond girl leaning forward too, plainly eavesdropping. "Why not?"

"Because I like someone else."

"Okay?"

Simon looked faintly greenish, the way he had once when he'd broken his ankle playing soccer in the park and had had to limp home on it. She wondered what on earth about liking someone could possibly have him wound up to such a pitch of anxiety.

"Who is it?" Clary asked.

Simon didn't answer.

She was about to add that if he were in love with Sheila Barbarino, Eric would kick his ass, when she heard someone cough loudly behind her. It was a derisive sort of sound, the kind of noise someone might make who was trying not to laugh out loud.

She turned around.

Sitting on a faded green sofa a few feet away from her was the boy from the night before, Jace, she was sure that was his name, though she wasn't sure _why_ she knew, wearing the same dark clothes he'd had on the night before in the club. His arms were bare and covered with dark, heavy marks. His wrists bore wide metal cuffs; she could see the bone handle of a knife protruding from the left one.

He was looking right at her, as if he were the one who had seen a ghost.

He hadn't been there five minutes ago.

"What is it?" Simon followed her gaze, but it was obvious from the blank expression on his face that he couldn't see Jace.

 _But I see you._

 _"Clary."_ He whispered.

His expression still haunted, he raised his chin, nodding towards the door.

He wanted her to come with him.

She felt Simon's hand on her arm.

He was repeating her name, asking her if something was wrong. She could barely register his voice.

"I'll be right back." She heard herself say, as she sprang off the couch, almost forgetting to set her coffee cup down.

Before she could stop to think about what she was doing, chasing after some admittedly familiar stranger, she raced toward the door, Simon staring after her.

She couldn't let Jace leave.

Something in her refused to let him depart without her. it was almost like...

Like she didn't want to lose him.

 _Again._

* * *

 ** _A/N: Neither the beautifully written show, or the amazing books belong to me, it's just fun to create your own versions of amazing TV shows and literature. Thank you for reading :)_**


	26. Chapter 26

Isabelle sighed, shutting her bedroom door firmly behind her.

Why did cooking have to be so _messy?_

After Jace's discovery that there was no record of a Clary Fray in New York, she had quickly excused herself, heading straight to the kitchen without a second thought. Her brothers would say they didn't want to eat, but she had not been cooking because she was hungry.

There were so many, too many, possibilities running through her mind.

If Clary _Fray_ didn't exist, then...

 _No._ She told herself. _You can't go there. She's dead, she's been dead for two years._

 _She's never coming back._

The girl Jace had seen, either she just happened to _look_ like Clary, or Alec was right, their brother was just exhausted, delirious.

He had seen what he wanted to.

Isabelle pulled a tank top and a pair of dark jeans from her wardrobe, tossing them onto her neatly made bed before pulling her flour covered shirt above her head, careful not to smear her makeup.

Something caught her eye in the mirror, and for once, it wasn't her own reflection.

 _Entreat me not to leave thee._

Dark, heavy lines.

 _Or return from following after thee._

Permanent.

Forever.

Her skin burned, as much as it had the day she first received the mark, when she was ten, and Clary was nine.

 _For whither thou goest, I will go._

Her parabatai rune.

 _And where thou lodgest, I will lodge._

But...

 _How?_

She had watched it fade; she had felt the pain, the agony as her parabatai, her best friend, her sister, fading away.

So many times she had looked for it, willing, wishing for it to reappear.

And here it was.

Isabelle grabbed the tank top from her bed, yanking it over her head as she threw the door open.

"Alec!" She screamed.

He rushed to her side, his eyes widening with concern. "What, Izzy? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Clary." Isabelle whispered. She felt out of breath, hazy, faint. "It's Clary. She's alive."

* * *

 **SO, SO, SO sorry for not updating! It's probably the oldest excuse in the book, but I've been sick, and today is the first day that my head is not pounding.**

 **As always, thank you for reading!**


	27. Chapter 27

She burst through the doors, terrified that he would have vanished into the alley shadows like a ghost, though he was there, slouched against the wall, his expression still haunted.

He stared at her, as if he were seeing her for the first time.

She opened her to speak, but nothing came out.

"Clary." He whispered again. He took a step towards her. "It's... It's _you_... You're alive."

Clary raised an eye brow. "Why wouldn't I... How did you find me?"

Jace sighed, shooting her an apologetic look.

"I tracked you." He admitted, as if his answer made all the sense in the world. "Look, I know how much you hate that, but maybe you'll let me off the hook, just this once? I needed to find you, and... Please don't put a poster of a duck in my room again. That was bad enough the first time."

There was a strange familiarity to his words that made her want to laugh.

Instead, she stepped away, creating even more distance between the pair.

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Clary, I know Isabelle wasn't the mastermind behind that plan, and Alec would have never done that to me, at least not without some convincing. You were always an evil genius, the ring leader. Alec and I just took the fall so you wouldn't get in trouble... I'm still going to get you back for that, by the way."

"No." Clary held up a hand to cut him off. "Seriously, what are you talking about? Who's Alec? Who's Isabelle?"

She paused.

"Who are _you?"_

He seemed taken aback.

"Clary." Jace muttered. "It's me."

She shook her head. "I don't know you."

But she _did_.

At least...

Part of her did.

"I..."

Suddenly, he was beside her, his hands encircling her upper arms in an unbreakable hold.

"Let go of me!"

"Clary..."

"Let go!"

"Please." Jace begged. "Calm down. Just listen to me."

The desperation in his tone made her stop struggling, but only slightly.

He surveyed her for a moment, his eyes widening.

"You don't remember me."

"Finally, you start to listen." She hissed. "My best friend is right inside! When he sees some tattooed maniac trying to kidnap me..."

Much to her surprise, he burst out laughing.

"They're not tattoos." He allowed one of his hands to drop, though she still couldn't budge an inch. "They're runes, they have enormous power. Good for Shadowhunters, _lethal_ for humans."

She shook her head. "You..."

Keeping a firm grip on her wrist, he shoved his hand into his pocket, producing a thin object.

Clary gasped.

"Relax." Jace said, and she almost did. "It's just my stele."

 _I gave you that._ Clary thought. _For your birthday. Max broke your old one.  
_

She blinked in surprise.

Gently, he pulled the sleeve of her paint-splattered sweatshirt back, exposing her pale arm to the early chill of the October air. Clair remained unnaturally calm as he hovered the tool just above her skin, slowly moving it downward.

There was a dull sting.

"I don't see anything."

"Focus, Clary." Jace said. "Wait for it to come to you, like waiting for something to rise to the surface of water."

"You're crazy." She told him, but she tried to concentrate, gazing at her own arm.

It jumped out at her suddenly, flashing like a _Do Not Walk_ sign

And then, she was covered, the marks against her skin just as dark and as bold as his own.

She felt too warm.

She yanked off her sweatshirt, watching in horror as heavy, dark, permanent lines expanded across her arms, her shoulders, her neck, as if they had been there her entire life.

The mark he had just uncovered looked like a set of overlapping circles.

"W-What did you do to me?" Clary demanded, finally wrenching her arm free. "What's happening?"

He made no moves to restrain her, and for that, she was grateful.

"It's going to be okay." Jace promised. "I swear, I'll explain everything later, but we need to go. Now."

Clary stared at him in disbelief. "Go? Where?"

"Someplace safe." He replied, holding out a hand. "I know you're confused, I know you're scared, but please, Clary, I need you to trust me. We have to get out of here."

She took a step back, shaking her head.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Clary!" Jace was beginning to sound annoyed. "The city is crawling with demons, many of whom, work for Valentine. Now that I've managed to figure out that you're still alive, it won't be long before word gets back to him. You need to come with me."

The name sent shivers down her spine.

"Clary?" Another voice called.

She let out a sigh of relief as Simon exited the coffee shop, his eyes scanning the sidewalk.

He looked right past her.

"Simon!" She waved her arms above her head, but he still did not see her.

He moved down the street, still shouting her name.

Horrified, she turned back to Jace.

"Why can't he see me?" Clary cried, shoving him. "What did you do?"

"Clary-"

Before she really knew what she was doing, she swung at him.

Jace blocked her hit easily, the two going back and forth in hand-to-hand combat. She had no idea where she had learned to fight, but she kept at it, graceful for once in her life.

 _Jace always was the better fighter._

His fingers locked around her wrist.

"I guess you haven't forgotten _everything."_ Jace said thoughtfully.

"Let go."

"Clary..."

"I said, let me _go!"_ Rage flooded through Clary, a hot tide through her veins. Without even thinking about it, she struck out at his face, her nails raking his cheek.

He jerked back in surprise. Tearing herself free, Clary ran toward the lights of Seventh Avenue.

"Clary!"

When she reached the street, she turned around, half-expecting to see Jace at her heels, but the alley was empty. For a moment, she stared uncertainly into the shadows.

Nothing moved inside them.

She spun on her heel, sprinting in the direction Simon had gone.

* * *

 **Credit goes to Cassandra Clare**


	28. Chapter 28

"Simon!" She called again, growing desperate. "Si?"

No one could see her.

Whatever _he..._

Whatever _Jace_ had done to her, some hocus pocus with his magical wand, stele, whatever it was called, had worked, for she seemed to be completely invisible to the rest of the world.

"Clary?"

He was just exiting the alleyway.

"Simon!"

A grin spread across her face despite the situation.

Clary ran to him.

She moved to embrace him, but he held his hands up, halting her.

She raised an eye brow. "Si..."

"Sorry." He apologized. "I just... Never mind. We have to go, Clary, come on."

He took hold of her arm, attempting to pull her away. Clary dragged her feet, wrenching free from his grasp with a strength she didn't know she had.

"Go?" She demanded. "Where?"

"Clary-"

"Go _where?"_

It was the same question she had asked Jace.

Something in her wondered if she should have gone with him.

"We have to find the Mortal Cup." Simon told her, again reaching to seize her arm.

Clary took a step back. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Think, Clary." He hissed, pushing his glasses upward. "Did your mother ever talk to you about a cup? A very important cup."

"Si..." She said slowly. "What are you talking about? You know I don't have a mo-"

"It's gold." He continued, as if he had never heard her. "Almost like a chalice."

"No!" Clary replied. "I don't know anything about a cup, Simon! What is the matter with you?"

"Think, Clary." Simon repeated. "This could save you."

"I can't think, Si!" She cried. "Some blonde tattooed maniac just tried to kidnap me, and now my best friend is acting like a total freak! I don't know anything about a cup!"

"You know more than you think you do, Clary Fairchild."

Simon suddenly groaned in pain, dropping to his knees.

Before she could reach him, to offer aid, someone called her name as something sharp and gleaming came flying towards her.


	29. Chapter 29

She caught it effortlessly.

He had no time to process that though the girl standing in front of him was Clary, she did not remember him, or herself, for that matter, especially when there was a demon, ready to kill her if she did not have the answers the creature craved.

He landed in front of her, casting a glance back at her.

Her eyes were wide, filled with fear. Both hands wrapped around the handle of the seraph blade, holding onto it for dear life.

"Jace." She whispered.

Not once did he have to tell her his name.

The Clary he knew and loved was still in there, somewhere.

It was enough to keep him going, for the moment, anyway.

With a renowned sense of hope, he started towards the creature.

"S-Stop!" Clary begged, suddenly latching onto his arm. "He's my friend!"

"Clary." Gently, regrettably, he pulled himself from her grasp, turning back to face her. "This isn't your mundie, okay? It's a-"

The glamour protecting the demon faded.

She gasped.

He wanted to shield her, to promise her that everything was going to be okay, and he would. Now that he had her back, even if she didn't remember herself, or him, or Alec, or Isabelle, or anything about their lives together, he was never letting her out of his sight again.

He would protect her, because he hadn't protected her before, he just had to kill the ravener first.

With one arm extended in front of her, he readied his weapon.

The demon lunged at them.

"Jace!"

"It's okay, Clary." He mumbled. "I've got this."

She raised a shaking hand, pointing above their heads.

There were three more crawling down the side of the building. Jace cursed under his breath.

"Stay behind me." He directed. "Use the blade only if you have to."

"Use the..." Clary trailed off from her repetition of his words. "You've got to be joking! I don't know how to use this!"

"Yes you do." Jace replied. "You were trained to do this, it's in your blood."

He pulled the knife he always kept clipped to his belt, and thrust it at two of the creatures.

They disintegrated immediately.

Clary pressed a trembling to her mouth.

She was scared.

Of him.

"Clary," He started to say, his hand enclosing over her own. "Don't-"

The second ravener threw itself at them.

Jace pushed her out of the way, his head cracking against the cement.

* * *

"Jace!" Clary cried, rushing to his side.

He had to be okay.

She _needed_ him to be.

"Jace." She said again, slipping her hand into his. A familiar jolt shot through her arm. "Jace."

He stirred, but did not open his eyes.

The thing, a ravener, she thought he had called it, was still alive, its attention now fixated on her.

Clary wanted to smash it, to blind it. She had almost forgotten the blade in her hand.

As the creature lunged for her face, jaws wide, she thrust the sword into the demon's chest.

The ravener began to twitch, spasming uncontrollably.

And then, it disintegrated, disappearing into nothingness.

Jace coughed.

Glancing at him, Clary watched with relief as he sat up, pressing a hand to his head.

"What?" She asked, momentarily forgetting herself. A grin spread across her face. "No _thank you_ for saving your life?"

His eyes reflected pride.

Amusement.

It was a look he had given her often, when she bested Alec in the training room for the first time, when she killed her first demon.

When she threw rocks at his window at three o'clock in the morning, just for the hell of it.

Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet, offering her a hand for the millionth time that day.

Something whistled through the air next to her head. She tried to duck, but it was too late.

The last creature sank its teeth into her neck.

She cried out in pain. Jace's blade punctured right where the demon's heart would have been, had it had one.

And then he was beside her, his hand cupping her cheek.

The long, luminous cylinder, as thick around as an index finger and tapering to a point made another appearance.

Her neck began to burn.

"We need to go." He said, shoving the stele back into his pocket. "Now."

"Jace..."

"Please." Jace was almost begging. "Come with me. Let me take you home."

Clary nodded numbly.

She couldn't argue with him anymore; she didn't want to.

The world tilted.

Jace slid a hand across her back, holding her steady. "Can you walk?"

Clary didn't answer, too busy trying not to fall over. The ground was heaving up and down under her feet.

"Jace." She whispered, crumpling into him.

He caught her easily, swinging her up into the air. She locked her arms around his neck, holding onto him for dear life. Clary tipped her head back to look at him but saw only the stars cartwheeling across the dark sky overhead. Then the bottom dropped out of everything, and even Jace's arms around her were not enough to keep her from falling.

Jace tightened his grip on her, starting a brisk walk back to the Institute.

"I've got you." He promised, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

He really had her.

He finally had her, and he was never letting her go again.


	30. Chapter 30

"No." Alec said, shaking his head. _"No._ It's not possible. It's not-"

Isabelle rolled her eyes, examining the mark for the hundredth time, just to ensure herself that it was still there.

"Obviously it is, Alec."

Their rune was once again intact.

Clary was alive.

"Izzy..."

 _"Alec."_ She replied, her tone a warning for him not to say anything else. "I can feel her."

She could sense every emotion pouring from her parabatai, her best friend, her sister.

Clary was alive.

She was safe.

She was coming _home_.

And none of them would ever let her out of their sight again.

Alec stared at the wall.

Clary...

 _Alive._

No.

He couldn't believe it.

He had seen her that day, arriving to her room only minutes after Jace. He had watched as his brother, the boy who never cried, let a strangled sound escape his throat, sobs wracking his entire body. He had seen Clary in Jace's arms, eyes closed, looking as if she were sleeping peacefully, but she hadn't been.

That image would never leave him.

She was dead; she had to be.

Even in a world where all the legends were true, people did not just magically come back to life...

No matter how much he wished that could happen.

Clary was gone.

She wasn't coming back.

"Alec!" A familiar voice called. "Izzy!"

The two rushed out of the office; the very room Alec had practically shoved her into after she showed her reappeared rune, an action he could still not explain.

Jace was rushing towards them.

Isabelle gasped, a single tear streaming down her cheek.

"Oh my god."

Alec stared at them in utter awe, disbelief.

Cradled in his brother's arms, was a girl, obviously fading in and out of consciousness. A girl with fiery curls, her emerald green eyes just about to close

Unmistakable.

Unforgettable.

Clary.


	31. Chapter 31

" _I'll get help."  
_

 _"Izzy..."  
_

 _"I'm not losing her again, Alec."_

 _Again?_ Clary thought. _I never left you, Izzy._

She was still in Jace's arms. Though she knew his walk was a brisk one, there was a carefulness to his movements, as if he were afraid to jostle her.

 _"How..."  
_

 _"What, Alec?"_

She felt herself being lowered, Jace's warmth slowly leaving her. Her head hit what she thought was a pillow. Curls were brushed from her face before a hand came to rest against her temple.

 _"How is this possible?"_ A deep voice demanded.

The hand dropped.

 _"I don't know, Alec."_ Jace admitted. _"That's not important right now."  
_

 _"Not important? Jace, Clary just came back from the dead!"_

 _Dead?_ She thought. _Me?_

They had to be talking about another Clary, for she was very much alive, and had been for the last sixteen years.

 _"She was bitten by a ravener."_ He said. _"I drew an iratze, but I don't think it's working. Her runes have faded."  
_

 _"Well, she's been 'dead' for two years, so..."  
_

 _"Shut up, Alec."  
_

She wanted to chastise both of them, to remind them that they were best friends, that now was not the time to be arguing, but she couldn't speak.

 _"Jace!" Isabelle called. "Alec!"  
_

Another hand came to brush across her forehead.

 _"No..."_ A new voice muttered. The hand fell away. _"This... This isn't possible."  
_

 _"Obviously it is."_ It was Alec who had spoken, much to her surprise. _"So if you could get over your initial shock, and save her life, we would really appreciate it."_

Neither Jace nor Izzy gave him a warning.

She might have, had she not realized that for once, he actually seemed concerned for her.

Usually, he just yelled at her, criticized her, told her that someday, she was going to get herself killed.

 _But why do I know that?_ Clary demanded to herself.

All her thoughts ran as thickly and slowly as blood or honey.

 _I have to wake up._

She couldn't.

Dreams held her, one after the other, a river of images that bore her along like a leaf tossed in a current.

She saw Isabelle, younger, clasping her arm, flames surrounding them.

She saw Alec, his hand wrapped around her elbow as he taught her how to shoot a bow.

She saw Jace, his eyes wide, tears streaming down his cheeks as he begged her not to leave him.

She saw herself, blade in hand, ready to kill, ready to return to the life she had once known.


	32. Chapter 32

"Jace."

He didn't look up.

Isabelle sighed.

It had been nearly a day since he'd returned to the Institute, Clary in his arms, and he had refused to leave her side since then. Clary was _her_ best friend; as much as she wanted to be there, sitting beside her, cracking old jokes that she hadn't found funny in years, she hadn't had a chance to.

"Jace." She said again.

Finally, he glanced back at her, his eyes bloodshot from the lack of sleep.

"I'm not leaving her side, Izzy." Jace replied.

She wasn't sure whether to love him for that, or feel annoyed.

Neither did Clary.

Isabelle was overwhelmed; Clary's emotions radiated off of her.

After almost two years apart, she had nearly forgotten just how compassionate her parabatai was.

Clary felt. A lot.

Fear, irritation, uncertainty, and yet, also safe, loved, protected. It was a confusing mix.

Isabelle had been used to it once, and she would get used to it again.

She would do anything, for her prayers had finally been answered.

Clary was alive, she was there, and they wouldn't lose her again.

"You need to sleep." She told him. She sniffed the air, a look of disgust crossing her face. "And _shower."_

Jace merely scoffed in response.

"Jace..."

 _"No_ , Izzy." He hissed. "I'm going to be here when she wakes up."

"It could be _days_ before she wakes up." Isabelle argued. The bite had been deep, but Clary was strong. "I'll stay with her for a few hours. I won't leave her side."

Jace didn't seem convinced. "Izzy..."

"You need sleep, Jace."

He sighed, silently considering her words. Then he nodded, slowly rising to his feet.

"Swear to me you won't leave her alone."

A sad smile graced her lips. "I swear."

As if she had planned on ever leaving her sister's side again.


	33. Chapter 33

**Idris**

 **Seven Years Ago**

 **Lightwood Manor**

* * *

"What are you doing out here?"

She didn't reply.

She expected irritation, for whatever reason, she always seemed to get on his nerves, just like Isabelle did, but the moment he saw the look on her face, vexation turning to worry as concern spread across his own.

"Clary?" Alec asked.

She shook her head.

The last thing she needed to hear was that emotion would only cloud her judgment.

It was something he said to her at least once a day.

He knelt down, hesitantly reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder.

"Clary." He said again. "What happened?"

She met his gaze, and for once, she was not afraid to cry in front of him.

"She's not here." Clary whispered.

She didn't have to be specific; Alec already knew.

He rose to his feet, pulling her up with him, and then, suddenly, she was in his arms. The embrace was stiff and unfamiliar for a moment; they were Alec and Clary; she got on his nerves, and he berated her, protection the ulterior motive behind his harsh words, that was how they showed they cared about one another.

Finally, she relaxed, winding her own arms around his torso.

"She promised."

"I know." Alec's grip tightened.

"Why doesn't she want me, Alec?"

It was a question that had haunted her for years. The Lightwood's had always been, and always would be her family, but Jocelyn was her _mother_ , her own blood.

Shouldn't she have been with her?

"She doesn't _deserve_ you, Clary." Alec replied.

He pulled back slightly to look her in the eyes.

"You are Clarissa Fairchild." He told her, his hands resting heavily against her shoulders. "My sister, Max's sister, Izzy's _parabatai_ after tonight. Jace's…"

He trailed off.

She waited for him to continue. Eagerly. "What? Jace's _what?"_

"Never mind." Alec took hold of her hand, tugging her along behind him. It was almost time. "You don't need Jocelyn, Clary, not when you have us."

Clary managed a smile as she stepped into the room. Robert, Maryse, Jace, Isabelle and Max were waiting for her.

"You're right." She muttered. "I'll always have you guys."

"Yeah." Alec refused to release his grip on her hand. "You will."

* * *

 **New York**

 **Present Day**

 **New York Institute Infirmary**

* * *

Clary's eyelids felt as if they had been sewed shut.

She imagined she could feel tearing skin as she peeled them slowly open and blinked for the first time in three days.

The first thing she saw a clear blue sky above her, white puffy clouds and chubby angels with gilded ribbons trailing from their wrists.

 _Am I dead?_ She wondered. _Could heaven actually look like this?  
_

She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again.

This time she realized that what she was staring at was an arched wooden ceiling, painted with a rococo motif of clouds and cherubs.

She sat straight up in a panic, her head cracking against that of another.

"Ow." A girl mumbled.

Painfully, Clary hauled herself into a sitting position. Every part of her ached.

She glanced around.

She was tucked into a linen-sheeted bed, one of a long row of similar beds with metal headboards. Hers had a small nightstand beside it with a white pitcher and cup on it. Lace curtains were pulled across the windows, blocking the light, although she could hear the faint, ever-present New York sounds of traffic coming from outside.

"I don't know you." She said, panic overtaking her.

Isabelle, perched on the bed beside her, her long jet-black hair wound into two thick braids that fell past her waist, placed a hand on her arm, the touch calming Clary almost immediately.

Her eyes reflected sadness, but only for a moment.

"I'm Isabelle." She announced, quickly regaining her composure.

Before she could say anything else, two deeper voices began drifting closer.

 _Jace and Alec arguing._ Clary frowned. _Typical._

She blinked.

Why did that keep happening?

"We need to alert the Clave."

"Really, Alec?" Jace demanded. He stormed into the infirmary, his raven-haired brother hot at his heels. "We just got her back."

"The reunion can wait, Jace." Alec shot back. "We can't keep it a secret anymore. Our own parents don't even know."

"Boys." Isabelle warned.

They both turned, surprise, relief and amazement etching across their features when they realized she was finally awake.

"Clary." Jace said. Isabelle released her grip on her arm, allowing Jace to take her spot. "How are you feeling?"

She stared at him for a moment. "Jace..."

"Right." He smiled, though it seemed forced.

"What's going on?" Clary wrapped the thin white sheet a little tighter around herself. "Why am I here? Who _are_ all of you?"

Alec looked taken aback. "You... You don't remember?"

He shot Jace a hard look.

"You said it was temporary!"

"I thought it was!" Jace replied. "She killed a ravener, she _was_ Clary in that moment, Alec, I don't know what happened!"

"She doesn't remember any of us." Isabelle murmured.

All eyes were on her.

Alec's expression hardened, and he started towards the door. "I have to report this to the Clave."

"Alec..."

"She doesn't remember us, Jace, an investigation needs to be conducted."

"You know what?" Jace hissed, jumping to his feet. He moved to stand in front of her. "Dial it down a notch."

"My brother doesn't have a dial." Isabelle glanced at him. "I love you, Alec, but you have a switch that's always on."

"Love you too." He replied distractedly, his hand wrapped around the knob. "But this..."

Clary couldn't take it any longer. "Is anyone going to tell me what's going on?"

Alec opened his mouth to reply.

"You know what? Give me a minute."

Alec stared at him in disbelief.

"Here's a word you never hear me say." Jace grumbled. "Please?"

"What is with you?" Alec demanded. Isabelle took hold of his arm. "Really, no, what is with him?"

"Walk with me, big brother."

Entering the hallway, Alec tore away from her grasp, turning to glare at her.

"This shouldn't be possibly." He hissed. "People don't just come back from the dead, Izzy."

Isabelle's gaze hardened. Clary was alive, they had gotten her back, why couldn't he be happy, for once?

"They do now." She snapped, spinning on her heel.

She stormed off.

* * *

 **Credit goes to the writers of Shadowhunters**


	34. Chapter 34

He had no idea where to begin.

She didn't object to him sitting beside her, so he stayed out, wringing his hands. What was he supposed to say to her?

"I know you're confused..."

"Confused?" She repeated, her brows narrowing.

It was a habit he recognized easily, she was annoyed, about to become angry.

He only hoped he could still handle her if she became irrational; she had broken her hand more than once going too hard on the training floor, punching a wall when the frustration became too much. He had drawn an iratze against her wrist the day they lost her, when she threw a picture frame across the room, cutting herself in the process.

 _"Confused?_ No, Jace, I'm not confused."

"Oh..." He replied hesitantly. "Good..."

"I'm freaking out!" Clary snapped. She was still sitting on the bed, wearing one of his old t-shirts, the sheet wrapped around her legs. "All I know is that I saw you _kill_ somebody at Pandemonium, and then, the next day, you waved your little magic wand..."

"A stele." Jace corrected.

"Whatever!" She cried, covering her face with her hands. "Now, I'm covered in tattoos, and you _killed_ my best friend!"

"Runes, and that _thing_ wasn't your mundie, Clary." He told her. "Who, by the way, is one of the most mundane mundanes I've ever encountered, and completely unworthy of you."

"Jace."

Disapproval dripped from her tone, so familiar that she could almost imagine herself constantly reprimanding him, all the while, her eyes full of amusement.

She had never been able to stay mad at him for long.

"Declarations of love amuse me." He added, ignoring her. "Especially when unrequited."

Clary was no longer thinking of Simon.

"I saw you kill someone." She said. "I saw you drive a knife up under his ribs."

"You've killed before too, you know." Jace told her.

Clary blanched. "Excuse me?"

"You never used to have a problem with killing demons." He explained. It suddenly dawned on her that he really believed what he was saying. "You killed your first one when you were nine."

"You're crazy." Clary accused.

Jace reached out and took hold of her hand. When she didn't yank it away, a small smile graced his lips.

"You know more than you think you do."


	35. Chapter 35

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like." Jace's grip tightened on her hand. "Clary, I know you don't remember, but you're one of us. You're a Shadowhunter, sworn to protect the human world from the demon world."

She stared at him in disbelief.

"You really are crazy."

He cursed under his breath. He was surprisingly gentle as he released her, but seconds later, he was angrily pacing back and forth across the floor.

"Why can't you remember?" He hissed. _"Why?"_

The sadness in his eyes intrigued her, worried her.

"Jace." Clary called, her tone softer than before.

His gaze immediately snapped back to her. Without hesitation, she held a hand out to him, pulling him back to sit beside her on the bed.

"Tell me." She begged. "Please."

Jace seemed unsure. "Everything?"

"Everything." Clary echoed.

He sighed, unsure of where to begin. Both of her hands were in his now, and she gave him a reassuring squeeze.

Suddenly, he felt hopeful.

It was an emotion he had refused to feel since he lost her.

She couldn't remember him, Alec, Isabelle, or even herself, but she was still Clary, with her fiery curls, and those emerald green eyes that had haunted him for the last two years. Her mannerisms, even when she was still so unsure of him, still were genuine, the way she had scolded him, the way she reached for him, taking his hand in her own.

He had to have hope; the Clary he knew and loved was still in there, somewhere, and he was going to fight, with everything he had, to get her back.

"Okay." He said. "Your name isn't Clary Fray. It's Clarissa Fairchild."

Clary scowled. "I hate it when people call me _Clarissa."_

"Why do you think we've always called you Clary?" Jace asked, and she almost smiled. "You were born on August-"

"August twenty-third." Clary finished.

He nodded. "Right. August twenty-third. Your mother, Jocelyn Fairchild, gave you to my parents, Robert and Maryse Lightwood when you were only a few minutes old."

A familiar look crossed her face, the same one she had always worn whenever anyone dared to mention Jocelyn.

"Why didn't she want me?"

She was six the first time she asked him that, and he still did not have an answer for her.

He was not fond of Jocelyn Fairchild, nor was his family, with the exception of Max, who had only met the woman a handful of times, and honestly, Jace wasn't sure if the eight-year-old even realized that she was the one who had given birth to Clary.

"I don't know." He said, because it was the only thing he could say that wouldn't upset her. He didn't care whether Jocelyn lived or died, so long as she stayed the hell away from Clary.

Giving Clary to Robert and Maryse was the only good thing she had ever done for her daughter.

"What about my father?"

Jace winced. Another question he didn't know how to answer.

He would give her the bare minimum; she already knew the truth, at least she had once, and she would again, in time.

"Your father is a rogue Shadowhunter." Jace admitted. "Valentine..."

Clary took a deep breath. "What did he do?"

"He..."

"Jace!" Isabelle called.

He turned back to face her.

"What?" He demanded, his tone filled with annoyance. All he wanted was a few minutes alone with her, why was that too much to ask?

Isabelle didn't seem fazed. "We need you."

 _"Now?"_

"Now." She confirmed with a nod. Her gaze moved to Clary, and she tried to give her a reassuring smile.

Jace sighed, giving her hand one last squeeze before standing up. "I'll be back."

She clung to him for a moment longer.

"I'll be back." He promised. "Isabelle left you some clothes... Promise me you'll stay here."

"I promise." Clary replied.

He didn't want to leave her, nor did Isabelle, but they didn't have a choice. Duty came first, even before the reappearance of their Clary.

Sighing again, he left the room, trying to remind himself that she wasn't going anywhere.


	36. Chapter 36

She wished that she had her sketch book.

She'd promised Jace that she would stay in the infirmary, but she hadn't taken the time to ponder on just how bored she would be, waiting for his return.

It suddenly dawned on her that she was not shocked, or dismayed by any of the things Jace had told her.

It was like she had been told something that she had already known.

She wasn't Clary Fray.

What was it Jace had called her? Clary Fairchild?

The name from her dream, except that it wasn't a dream.

It was a memory.

Jace was the boy from the balcony, the one who had tried to be annoyed over her throwing rocks at his window so late in the night.

She had been so sure that he was going to kiss her that night.

She and Isabelle had talked about it for weeks afterwards.

Clary blinked, the recollections disappearing just as quickly as they had come back to her.

If she _was_ Clary Fairchild...

Would she ever be able to remember?

A familiar ring filled the air. Her phone. Simon.

"Simon." She breathed a sigh of relief.

"How come you haven't answered your phone in three days?"

"Things are..." Clary winced. How could she possibly explain any of this to him? "All ripped apart..."

"Where are you?" Simon demanded. He sounded annoyed, worried, anxious. "Find My Friends says your phone is in an abandoned church on Deighton. I'm outside."

She raced to the window.

There he was, standing on the overgrown lawn of what he saw as a chapel.

 _He can't see through the glamour._ Clary thought.

A smile spread across her face. "I see you."

"I don't see you."

"Give me five minutes. I have to get dressed."

"Dressed?" Simon repeated cautiously. "What are you doing undressed in an abandoned church? Clary... Is there... Is there a meth problem we have to talk about?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Simon, just give me five minutes, okay?"

Clary found the clothes Jace had mentioned lying across the bed beside her own.

She rose to her feet, wincing slightly. She pulled on a pair of sandblasted jeans, soft as worn paper, and a blue tank top with a design of Chinese flowers sewn across the front. Though faded, several paint stains seemed to be permanently imbedded into the fabric, and there was a fixed hole on the right side, as if someone had sewn it shut more than once.

They fit her perfectly, almost as if...

Almost as if they had been made for _her._


	37. Chapter 37

He felt like he needed to hit something.

She.

Couldn't.

Remember.

Part of him wondered if he should have been relieved, relieved to know that all the arguments, all the harsh, cold things he had said to her would be forgotten, at least on her part, but why did the good memories have to disappear too?

Because there _had_ been good times, ones he hadn't allowed himself to remember for so long.

Back in Idris, she would drag all three of them outside well after dark, forcing them all to sit around a fire, and tell the scariest stories they could come up with. Often, she would fall asleep as the last tale was being told, and he would carry her to her room, pulling the covers up to her chin, before leaning down to kiss her forehead.

He called her _Klutzy_ , both as a term of endearment, and in retaliation for just how many times she had gotten on his nerves, and one day, with a grin on her face, she announced that if he called her that again, she would break every single one of his arrows, and then his bow.

He'd merely laughed, calling her bluff.

It had been their last conversation.

"What's going on?" Jace asked as he rounded the corner. Isabelle was at his side.

"Someone's prowling around the grounds." Alec explained, gesturing to the screen. "They haven't tried to break in... Yet."

Isabelle thought for a moment. "It's almost like..."

"They're waiting for something." Jace finished, reaching for his weapon. "Alec, come with me, Izzy, protect-"

"Always." She said, already racing back towards the infirmary.


	38. Chapter 38

The moment Simon saw her, he tore off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders.

She wasn't cold.

The October chill felt good against her skin, but she still accepted the gesture, because it was Simon, and she was grateful to see him.

Although, admittedly, he had not crossed her mind in the last seventy-two hours.

There had been a lot going on.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I..." Clary quickly trailed off.

How could she even begin to explain all of this to him?

"Never mind." Simon mumbled, his fingers locking around her wrist. "Come on, let's get out of here."

She yanked her arm back, surprising him.

She was so much stronger than either of them knew.

"Clary?" He asked.

"Simon..." She sighed, shaking her head. "I can't..."

But before she could finish, someone cleared their throat, alerting her to the fact that they were not alone.

 _"Clary Fairchild!"_

Clary whirled around.

An unfamiliar man, dressed in all black, and welding a sword that looked much like the one she had seen Jace use only days earlier, stood before her, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

 _Valentine's people._ She recalled.

"Clary?" Simon again grasped her arm. "What is it? What's wrong?"

She had to protect him.

She had promised to protect every and any mundane from the dangers she had faced on a daily basis. It was her duty.

She would never let anything harm Simon.

Or Jace, Isabelle and Alec, for that matter.

Without a second thought, she charged forward, leaving Simon's jacket carelessly on the ground.

The man wasn't prepared for her sudden movement. She knocked the blade from his hand, surprisingly graceful as she dodged his return attack.

"Clary!"

Clary turned, to promise him that everything would be fine. The distraction was all she needed for the rogue Shadowhunter to catch hold of her wrist, using his free hand to smack her across the face, knocking her down.

"Clary!" Simon said again. "What's going on?"

The man leered, leaning forward until his face was only inches away from her own. "Your father will be pleased to see that you are still alive."

She kicked at him, blindly feeling around for something, anything she could use as a weapon.

Her fingers enclosed around the blade.

"My father." Clary hissed, momentarily forgetting herself. "Can burn in hell."

She plunged the sword into the man's chest.


	39. Chapter 39

"Clary!"

Of course she hadn't stayed put.

Jace sighed. He should have known better. She liked to break the rules almost as much as he did.

She turned to meet his gaze, gripping the seraph blade with both hands. She was as white as a ghost, and she trembled, a horrified expression on her face.

"Clary." He said, a little more gently. He took a cautious step towards her. "It's okay, everything's okay now."

Clary was still staring at him in confusion, as if she couldn't quite place him.

Jace reached for her anyway, prying the weapon from her grasp, before placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Jace." She whispered, relaxing slightly.

"Yeah." He replied. "You okay?"

She didn't answer, instead pointing to the ground, where the body lay only a few feet away.

"Is he dead?" She asked.

"Excuse me?" An unfamiliar voice demanded. "Is _who_ dead?"

Clary began to sway, and he quickly caught hold of her elbow, ready to swing her up into his arms again if he had to.

Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from his girl to see who it was that had spoken.

It was the mundane that had pulled Clary away from the scene at Pandemonium, before Jace could get to her, to bring her back with them, to bring her _home._

The glamour protecting the henchman began to fade, leaving the man's body to appear in front of the mundie's eyes.

"What the..."

Clary seemed to snap out of her shock. "Why can't Simon see you?"

Slowly, Jace lifted to his shirt, pointing to the rune burned into his skin. She and Isabelle had chosen to draw theirs on their wrists; why the mundane could see _her_ , he didn't know, but her marks had faded, the dark lines against her arms not as bold as they had once been. Perhaps they had lost some of their powers.

"This is a glamour, a rune that makes me invisible to mundanes." He explained. "It's a shame, really, cause, well, denying them all _this…"_

She almost smiled.

"Haven't you ever heard that modesty is an attractive trait?"

It was such a Clary thing to say.

"Only from ugly people." Jace confided. "The meek may inherit the earth, but at the moment it belongs to the conceited. Like me."

And then, she laughed, and it was like music to his ears.

"Clary." The mundane stepped forward, bending down to pick up what must have been his jacket. "Who are you talking to?"

Jace could have killed him for ruining the moment.

Her smile faded. "Could you deglamourize, or whatever, so my best friend doesn't think I'm losing my mind?"

He rolled his eyes, but complied, pulling his stele from his back pocket.

He too, appeared in front of the mundane, a grin spreading across his face when the boy's jaw dropped.

"Um..." He muttered. "What is happening?"

Clary shook her head. "Simon, I..."

"You just _killed_ someone!" The mundane snapped. "You... We have to call the police!"

"We can't." Jace and Clary said together.

"But..."

"We don't have the luxury right now, kid." Jace said. "Everyone back inside."

"Clary, who is this?" The boy, Simon, demanded, turning her to face him. "Your meth dealer?"

"Clary." Jace echoed. "I need to keep you safe. I promise you, I promise I'm going to help you, but you need to come with me. You're one of us. You're a Shadowhunter."

"What are you talking about?" He asked cautiously. "Clary... You don't know this guy, all right? Come with me. I can get us help."

They were both holding a hand out to her, begging, pleading.

"Clary, please."

"Clary, come on."

Her gaze moved rapidly between the two.

"Clary, come on." Simon reached for her again. "We gotta go."

Clary took a step back, away from him, and placed her hand in Jace's.

The mundane's gaze hardened.

Jace smirked.

"Simon." She pronounced carefully. "I think... I think Jace can help us."

* * *

 **Dialogue belongs to the writers of Shadowhunters**


	40. Chapter 40

" _What?"_

She didn't answer, instead catching hold of his sleeve to drag him along.

Jace's grip tightened on her hand.

"How do we know this Mick Jagger-looking guy is even gonna..."

"Mundane." He snapped, pulling Clary through the door behind him. "We do not have the time."

The boy's jaw dropped again. "Did you just call me a-"

Clary sighed, tired of their bickering.

 _It's almost as bad as Alec and Izzy._

"Come on, Simon." She released her hold on him. "Let's go."

She watched with interest as Jace again produced his stele.

Simon gasped.

"It's okay." Clary promised.

He turned to face her, his eyes widening in horror. "He's, like, _burning_ himself."

Jace was grinning as he reached out to clasp Simon's hand.

"Buddy, what's going on, man?" Simon demanded. "I'm not your type, man. I don't even..."

When he trailed off, Clary knew he could see what she saw.

The Institute was huge, a vast cavernous space that looked less like it had been designed according to a floor plan and more like it had been naturally hollowed out of rock by the passage of water and years. Clary had glimpsed countless identical small rooms, each with a stripped bed, a nightstand, and a large wooden wardrobe standing open. Pale arches of stone held up the high ceilings, many of the arches intricately carved with small figures. She noticed certain repeating motifs: angels and swords, suns and roses.

"W-Where are we?" Simon stammered. "What the hell? Clary, is there a war going on that I don't know about?"

"There is now." Jace touched her arm as he passed. She kept up with him easily. "You coming?"

"Yeah..."

He followed along behind them at a much more cautious pace.

"Um... What is this place? There's a lot of gear in here. What'd they do, rob a tech shop?"

She caught Jace rolling his eyes, and she elbowed him sharply. He merely grinned down at her.

"So this cold-blooded killer is gonna help us?"

"He's not a killer." Clary replied. There was a defensiveness to her tone. "He's protecting us."

"Specifically, _you_." He was still grinning smugly. "It's sort of our thing."

"Your thing?" Simon repeated bitterly. "You guys have a thing?"

 _"_ _They've always had a thing."_ Clary heard a familiar voice mutter, and she laughed.

 _Izzy._ She thought. _Always the matchmaker._

An unreadable expression crossed her face.

She had never _truly_ denied knowing them, Jace, Alec, or Isabelle, even when she had asked who they were, nor had she argued with Jace when he called her Clary Fairchild.

For a moment, but only a moment, she had been transported back to a time that felt so familiar.

In a flash, though, the memory would vanish just as quickly as it appeared. They had become more frequent since Jace brought her back to the Institute.

She had thought she was going crazy, though maybe...

Maybe, she was starting to remember being who Jace had claimed she had once been.

Clary Fairchild.

Shadowhunter.

"A Shadowhunter thing." Clary corrected, casting a glance at Jace. She smiled. "That's what they... It's what _we_ do, protect humans from demons."

"Demons." Simon scoffed. "Right, that makes perfect sense, because there are demons running all around New York."

"That is the first correct thing you've said all day." Jace began pressing buttons on the screen.

Someone, not Simon, had called the cops. While one stood guard over the body, two others moved to bang on the door.

 _"NYPD!"_

"Won't they find us?"

"No. Our wards will deter them."

 _"Police!"_

Jace smirked. "The NYPD will do their typical mundie thing for a few hours and then the area will be clear."

Clary wondered if she should chastise him, she seemed to be pretty good at it, for calling every non-Shadowhunter he saw _mundane_ , or _mundie_ , the word sounded like an insult, but strangely, she didn't mind.

"What is going on?" Alec demanded, rounding the corner. "Why is there a mundane in the Institute?"

At first Clary didn't even register his words; she was too busy staring at him.

Like many only children, she was fascinated by the resemblance between siblings, and now, she could see exactly how much Alec looked like his sister. They had the same jet-black hair, the same slender eyebrows winging up at the corners, the same pale, high-colored skin. His lashes were long and dark like Isabelle's, his eyes dark blue, like bottle glass.

They gazed at Simon with a hostility as pure and concentrated as acid.

 _Mundanes are a waste of space._ Clary thought. _Isn't that what you always told me, Alec?_

"A Circle member followed him to get to Clary."

She snapped back to reality.

"What exactly is a Circle member?" Simon asked. "And why are they trying to kill us?"

"All we know is..."

"Jace." Alec warned, shooting him a hard look.

"Alec." Jace retorted. They wore the exact same expression. "What other choice do I have?"

"She doesn't-"

"She has a right to know!" He snapped.

Quickly, Clary moved to stand between them, her hands pressed against their chests. Alec tore away from her, as if he were afraid of her touch.

"Fine." He mumbled. "Do what you want."

Jace nodded shortly, starting towards the staircase. Alec followed.

"You coming?"

"Yeah." Clary agreed, again reaching for Simon's sleeve.

"No, no, no." Jace held up an arm to stop them from ascending. "Not you."

"Hey." She argued, a frown on her face. "We're a package deal."

"Yeah." Simon echoed.

"There are runes all over the Institute that would kill your mundie boyfriend."

"He's not my..."

"I'm not, like..." Simon sighed. "We're, uh, just friends."

She thought back to her earlier conversation with Jace.

 _Declarations of love amuse me_. He'd told her. _Especially when unrequited._

What had he meant by that?

"Best friends." Clary clarified.

"Yeah." Simon beamed at her. "And I'm tough, I can handle runes."

He smacked Jace's shoulder in an attempt to look masculine.

Jace and Alec snorted.

"You used to have better taste in friends." Alec told her.

"Bring on the runes." Simon said, ignoring him. "Um... What exactly are runes? "

"They give Shadowhunters our demon-fighting powers." Isabelle explained, producing her stele. The mark against her right arm began to glow.

"So hot." Simon whispered.

Jace cleared his throat, his eyes narrowing. Clary glared at her best friend, her expression filled with annoyance.

Something in her wanted to protect the dark-haired girl, even if it was from Simon, her harmless Simon.

"The rune." He explained, but his recovery was far from believable.

Isabelle forced a laugh.

"Don't worry, Clary." She said, sounding less than enthused. "I'll watch over the best friend. In fact, I was about to make breakfast."

Jace scoffed. "On second thought, the runes might be less lethal."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." Isabelle shot him a warning look. "Please excuse my brother's lack of manners. This is Alec, and I'm Isabelle."

Simon grabbed hold of her hand, shaking it too eagerly. "Lewis… Simon... Simon Lewis... Two first names... Am I still talking?"

Simultaneously, Alec and Clary rolled their eyes.

"See?" Jace offered a hand to her. "Best friend's safe and sound here."

"Jace." Clary warmed, taking his hand for the millionth time that day. "If anything happens to him..."

"Go on." Simon waved her away. "I'll be fine... I think."

Alec, bored by the conversation, had already moved down the hallway.

"Hey." Jace leaned forward. "Uh... Don't eat the food."

He pretended to shudder.

"Dangerous."

"Jace." Clary scolded. "Like you could do any better?"

She didn't miss the gleam in Isabelle's eye, but she couldn't quite place it.

Hope, maybe?

* * *

 **Dialogue belongs to the writers of Shadowhunters**

 **Description of the Institute, and Alec and Isabelle's similarities was written by Cassandra Clare**


	41. Chapter 41

The first thing she saw when she entered the room was her own face smiling back at her from the top of a mantel place. Five years old, gap-toothed smile framed by strawberry hair.

A sob rose in Clary's chest.

"Clary?"

"I'm fine." She whispered, blinking back tears.

Jace looked as if he wanted to say something, but Alec called his name, shaking his head.

She was so thankful for him in that moment.

"Clary, about that guy..."

"I killed him." Clary said, regaining her composure. She moved to perch on the arm of a chair near the door. "Didn't I?"

Alec nodded slowly.

"He's a member of the Circle, Clary." Jace announced. "He was either here to capture you or kill you."

"But I still-"

"If you hadn't." He finished, his lips forming a thin line. "I would have."

She didn't know how to reply to that.

 _He's just trying to protect me._ She thought. _He's always protecting me._

"What is the Circle?"

"Clary..." Jace began. "The leader of the Circle was Valentine Morgenstern... They thought he wanted to protect humans, like all Shadowhunters, but his followers never realized the lengths which Valentine was willing to go... The people he was willing to sacrifice... Most of humanity would have died if Valentine's plan had been carried out."

"Valentine nearly destroyed the Shadow World and humanity along with it." Alec added, his expression unreadable. "If he'd gotten the Cup..."

 _Did your mother ever talk to you about a cup? A very important cup._

"The Cup..." Clary echoed warily.

 _Gold. Almost like a chalice._

 _I don't know anything about a cup!  
_

 _You know more than you think you do, Clary Fairchild._

"Clary?"

"Who..." She choked out. She had heard the name more than once now. "Who is Valentine?"

Jace and Alec shared a look.

"He's..." Jace's expression hardened. "He's your father."


	42. Chapter 42

She had agreed to watch the mundane for two reasons.

Well, three, technically.

One, Alec detested mundies. He didn't think they were worth a second glance, and being forced to babysit the 'best friend' would only have worsened his mood, and then they would have _all_ suffered.

Two, no matter how much it annoyed her that she had yet to have a moment alone with her best friend, her brother constantly at Clary's side, Jace had watched Clary _die_ , or so he thought. She knew he still blamed himself, even now that they had her back, and she wondered if part of him always would.

 _I left her, Izzy._ He'd whispered once. _I left her alone, I never should have left her alone._

He would do whatever it took to protect her.

They all would.

And three, the mundane, _Simon_ , was important to Clary.

She could see it in the way she looked at him.

It was far from the way she had always looked at Jace, but she cared about Simon, she loved him unconditionally.

Whatever friendship the two shared meant something to her, and that was enough for Isabelle to want to protect him too.

She watched, almost with amusement, as Simon perched on the edge of her mattress, probably feeling just as uncomfortable as he looked.

Carefully, she placed the tray between them as she too, sat, crossing her legs.

"Here." Isabelle pushed the plate what was supposed to be scrambled eggs towards him. "Eat."

Simon didn't reply, instead, his eyes glued to the picture frame she had always kept by her bedside table, hiding it whenever Jace dared to enter her room.

In the photo, she was fifteen. Clary had just turned fourteen, and in celebration, Alec and Jace had thrust her face forward into her birthday cake. There was still frosting in her hair, but she had merely laughed aloud, gathering some of the dessert in her fist to throw back at them.

There had been a full on war, with Max, who was barely six, joining in. Robert and Maryse had watched them from the garden, their eyes full of joy, amusement.

The two girls had their arms locked around one another, grinning widely for the camera.

"T-That's Clary." Simon stammered.

Isabelle nodded. "Yeah, so?"

"How..." He picked up the plate, but didn't attempt to eat. "How do you two even know each other?"

"We've known each other our whole lives." She replied. "My parents took Clary in when she was a baby. We trained together, learned to fight side by side."

Simon's jaw dropped. "That's not possible... I know _all_ of her friends, and she's never mentioned you before. Any of you."

"How long have _you_ known her?" Isabelle retorted, genuinely intrigued.

"Since we were six." Simon replied.

She stared at him in disbelief.

"That's not possible."

"What?" He raised an eye brow. "Why not? It's the truth."

"No." Isabelle said, shaking her head. "It's not."

"I met Clary-"

"Clary was living with _us_ until two years ago." She told him. "She was born in Idris, the Shadowhunter homeland. It's where we all grew up."

"You..." Simon pulled his glasses from his face, rubbing at his eyes. "You must have the wrong Clary. She's lived here, in Brooklyn her entire life. I met her on the playground in kindergarten."

 _"You_ must have the wrong Clary." Isabelle snapped.

"She's not who you think she is." He argued. "She's not a-"

"Yes." She hissed, her protective instincts getting the better of her. "She is. She's one of us, she always has been."

Simon glowered at her. "Then why can't she remember you?"

A moment of silence passed between the two.

"I don't know." Isabelle admitted quietly. "But I'm going to find out."


	43. Chapter 43

"Clary!"

He caught hold of her arm, spinning her back around. She tried to fight him, but not once did his grip loosen.

"My father." She hissed. "My father is a _murderer."_

"Clary..."

She yanked free, moving to lean against the wall.

He sighed in frustration.

"But... Clary, look, will you just calm down?"

"Calm down?" Clary repeated. It was the worst thing he could have said to her. "Really, calm down? Okay, Jace, you might be some kind of emotionless G.I. Joe, but..."

Jace held a hand up to cut her off. "What is a G.I. Joe?"

"A soldier who doesn't understand human emotions." Clary explained quickly. 'Who doesn't know what it's like to lose someone."

A hurt look crossed his face.

"I _have_ lost someone, Clary." He muttered. "I lost _you."_

Her eyes widened.

 _It's gonna be okay._

Clary stepped forward to touch Jace's arm, to say something, anything, but what was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to reply to that?

 _You're going to be fine._

He had lost her? _When?_

Her hesitation turned out not to matter; Jace shrugged her touch off as if it stung.

 _Te amo in aeternum._

"Jace..."

"Never mind." He said. "It doesn't matter... Clary, when your... When _Jocelyn_ ran off, she took the Cup with her. Valentine has never stopped searching for it, or her, for that matter." _  
_

She stared at him. "And, what, I'm supposed to know where your precious Cup is?"

"No." Jace sighed. "But maybe you know something, about Jocelyn... Think. Please."

Clary stepped forward, reaching for his hand, and he reluctantly gave it to her, his palm warm against her own.

"I've tried, Jace." She whispered. "Okay? It's just this... Empty blackness."

He opened his mouth to reply, but a familiar voice beat him to it.

"Her memory was wiped." Isabelle said. "Someone took her memories, and created a glamour, a really powerful one."

Jace's eyes reflected understanding.

"Powerful enough to make us think that we had lost her."


	44. Chapter 44

Clary stared at them in disbelief.

"That..." She shook her head. "That's not possible... Is it?"

"Absolutely." Jace muttered distractedly, still deep in thought. "If you know a warlock."

"A warlock?"

"Yeah, a warlock, Clary." He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Immortal beings, they're half-demon, half-human. Sometimes their fingers spark."

Simon, who had entered the room behind Isabelle, seemed shocked by Clary's lack of expression or surprise above all else.

"Clary..." He started to reach for her, but Isabelle beat him to it, intertwining their fingers.

"Clary." She echoed. "How long have you known Simon?"

"Since I was six." Clary replied, without hesitation.

Simon grinned.

"What was the first demon you killed?" Jace demanded, catching onto Isabelle's plan.

"I... Um..." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't..."

"Where were you born?"

"Brooklyn General Hospital."

"What was the first rune you ever received?"

"I..."

"What's your favorite color?"

"Purple."

Jace frowned, no longer looking hopeful.

"How did you get the scar on your shoulder?"

Her hand moved to cover the crescent shaped mark he would have known anywhere.

"I got cut by some..." Clary quickly trailed off, blinking rapidly, as if recalling something. "No... It was just an accident... He didn't know what he was doing."

Both Jace and Isabelle's eyes shone with understanding.

"It was the only time I was ever careless." A fourth voice muttered.

Clary removed her hand, allowing him to trace the scar with a hesitant finger.

Then, she turned to face him, slipping her hand into his own.

"It wasn't your fault, Alec."

He let out a heavy sigh, as if he had been holding it in for too long.

"It's really you." He said. "You're back."


	45. Chapter 45

"What about my memories?" She asked. "They can't just be _gone_."

After her moment with Alec, he had been quick to usher them back into the office, away from the prying ears of other Shadowhunters.

Jace, occupying the chair she was currently perched on the arm of, sighed.

"There is another option."

"Don't even..." Isabelle began.

Alec's gaze hardened. "Absolutely not."

"I'm not afraid of the Silent Brothers." Jace snapped.

"No." Clary replied distractedly. "You're just afraid of ducks."

Light laughter filled the room, and Jace poked her waist in warning, causing a grin to spread across her face.

"I'm still going to get you back for that."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Promises, promises."

Simon glowered at the pair. "Who are the Silent Brothers?"

"They're Shadowhunters with superior powers." Jace told him. "Shadowhunters who possess the ability to recover memories."

He tapped Clary's forehead with a gentle finger.

"A process that can also kill you." Alec added dryly. "So, there's that."

"Your bedside manner is abysmal." Simon joked.

"We've broken at least eighteen Clave rules and now you want to go to the City of Bones?" He demanded, turning to his brother. "There's no way. I won't allow it."

"This isn't our choice to make." Jace argued. "This is Clary's decision."

"You can't ask her to do this." Isabelle snapped. "She doesn't know what she's facing. She's not prepared."

Clary sighed. "If anyone can tell me another way to recover my memories, and still get the answers we need, I'm listening."

Jace grinned at her, but it was grim, almost forced. "That settles it."

Alec and Isabelle shot her concerned looks that she tried to ignore.

She would do anything. Absolutely anything.

* * *

 **Dialogue belongs to the writers of Shadowhunters**


	46. Chapter 46

"Okay." She grumbled, glaring at her own reflection. "Now _this_ seems familiar."

Isabelle laughed, reaching out to adjust the tank top she had tossed her way only moments before. "You and I, bickering over clothes? You're right, that's nothing new."

Clary turned away from the mirror to face her. "Isabelle?"

She winced at the name.

Once, she had only referred to her by her nickname. It felt so strange to hear Clary call her anything else.

"Yeah?"

"Um..." She moved to lean against the far wall of Isabelle's bedroom. "I was wondering..."

"Clary." Isabelle said, perching on the edge of her bed. "You can ask me anything."

Clary nodded.

"How was I..." She began, trailing off.

She thought for a moment.

"How were _we?"_ Clary asked. "All of us... If you know what I mean?"

Isabelle nodded in understanding.

She knew _exactly_ what her parabatai meant; she always did.

"You, me, Jace and Alec." She said. Clary's gaze moved to the photograph on her bedside table, and she almost smiled. "There was no greater team."

 _I'll always have you guys._

 _Always._

 _"Always."_ Clary whispered.

"Forever." Isabelle confirmed.

The red head blinked, a clear indicator that she was beginning to remember _something_.

Isabelle waited eagerly.

"You..." She muttered, pointing to the picture. "You were my best friend."

Isabelle smiled sadly. "Clary... We were... We _are_ more than that."

"What do you mean?"

"We..." Isabelle sighed.

She was trying to remain hopeful, trying to remind herself that their Clary was still in there, somewhere, that once she got her memories back, everything would be as it had once been, better, even, but it was hard to keep faith when the person she was bound to, for life, couldn't remember everything the two had been through together.

"You are my _parabatai."_ She explained.

Clary's expression remained blank. "Para... Para... Is that supposed to mean something?"

 _Entreat me not to leave thee._

 _Or return from following after thee._

"There's no human bond that compares to what you and I have." Isabelle said. "We're bound together for life, bound to fight together, to protect each other. In battle, our hearts beat as one. If one of us were to die... A part of the other would die inside as well."

Isabelle had cried out for her.

 _I didn't want to leave you._ Clary thought.

She would never leave her again.

Clary turned to stare at her reflection again.

 _Who are you?_ She wanted to demand. _Clary Fray? Or...  
_

 _Clary Fairchild?_

"Is this the part where I give you the pep talk about harnessing your inner Shadowhunter and accepting your true destiny?" Isabelle asked, guessing her thoughts.

Clary cracked a smile. "Was that the pep talk?"

"Basically." She laughed, crossing the room to take her hand. "Clary... Remember, you were born to do this. No matter what has happened, _this_ is who you are."

"Not exactly feeling that..." Clary muttered.

Isabelle gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "Yet."

"So." Clary said, trying to force a smile. "Now we just have to get my memories back... And track down and kill the most dangerous rogue Shadowhunter in history before he kills us all."

"You really know how to ruin a pep talk, don't you?"

Both girls laughed.

"Come on." Isabelle started towards the door. "Let's go."

They left the room, hands still intertwined.


	47. Chapter 47

The boys were waiting for them in the entryway.

They wore all black, even Simon, in a slightly too-big pair of dark pants and his own shirt turned inside out to hide the band logo. He was standing uncomfortably to the side while Jace and Alec slouched together against the wall, probably bored out of their minds. Simon glanced up as Isabelle strode in.

Clary expected him to look stunned, Isabelle was the most beautiful person in the room, maybe in the world, but his eyes slid past her to Clary, where they rested with a look of astonishment.

"What do you have on?" He demanded, straightening up.

Clary glanced down at the jeans, tank top, and boots Isabelle had given her. She'd thrown a leather jacket, one she felt had once belonged to her, on to warm her against the October chill.

Simon knew Clary Fray, the girl who practically lived in baggy jeans, and oversized sweatshirts.

Who knew who Clary Fairchild was?

Alec, Jace and Isabelle knew.

She felt more like herself than ever before.

"You look-"

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you." Alec growled.

Simon's lips formed a thin, but he said nothing.

"You look great." Jace told her. "You do need a little something extra, though."

"So you're a fashion expert now?" Isabelle rolled her eyes.

He ignored her, producing something from behind his back. It was a long sword in a leather sheath. The hilt of the blade was set with a single red stone carved in the shape of a rose.

Clary tried to protest. "I wouldn't even know how to use that-"

Jace pressed it into her hand, curling her fingers around it.

"You killed a ravener." He reminded her, not bothering to mention the Circle member she had also killed. "You can do this, Clary, it's in your blood."

"It's yours." Alec added, pushing himself off the wall. "The seraph blade you used to use, I mean."

It felt so familiar in her hand.

"We should go."

"Great." Simon said. "I'll drive."

Alec and Jace shared an unimpressed look.

"What?" He asked. "Unless you have, like, a Shadowhunter-mobile or something."

Isabelle rolled her eyes.

He suddenly glanced around the room nervously.

Clary made no moves to comfort him, or tell him that Jace was just messing with him without feeling any guilt. She loved Simon, she really did, but Jace, Isabelle and Alec...

They were...

 _They're your best friends, you idiot._ An almost too familiar voice in her head scolded. _They're your family. You promised you wouldn't forget about them._

"You were kidding about the runes on the floor killing me... Right?"

A smirk graced Alec's lips.

"Possibly." Jace replied, clapping him on the back as he passed.

Alec, Isabelle and Clary followed him, snickering.

"Wait..." Simon called after them. "Am I gonna die?"

* * *

 **Words belong to Cassandra Clare and the writers of Shadowhunters**


	48. Chapter 48

"We're here." Jace announced, as the smooth roll of tires over pavement turned to the jounce of cobblestones.

Clary glimpsed words across the arch as they rolled under it: _New York City Marble Cemetery_.

"They stopped burying people in Manhattan a century ago because they ran out of room." Simon gripped the steering wheel with both hands. "Didn't they?"

"The Bone City has been here longer than that." Alec replied.

Simon's van came to a screeching halt.

Isabelle exited from the front as Alec threw the back door open. Jace climbed out after him, taking hold of Clary's hand as she jumped to her feet.

"Yeah." Simon muttered, his shoulder pressing against Clary's own. "This place isn't creepy. Not at all."

Isabelle scoffed. "Don't tell me you're afraid."

"Are you kidding me?" He retorted. "I was born afraid... Which sounded a lot better in my head."

Alec rolled his eyes. "Let's check it out."

Clary started to follow him, only to be stopped by a hand on her waist.

"Wait here a minute." Jace said. "I wanna see if it's safe."

"Jace." She protested.

"Clary." He mimicked, earning him a jab to the ribs. "Please, just stay here... Protect your mundie, if you really want to do something."

Clary shook her head in annoyance.

He walked away, and she frowned.

She hated being away from him, from all of them.

"What is it?" Simon asked, his hand on her arm. "What's wrong? How are you not ultra freaked out by all of this?"

Clary sighed, trying to think of how to respond.

"I guess I just always felt like there was something missing." She admitted. "Some void I couldn't quite explain... Things are finally starting to make sense."

"Clary..." He started to say.

"Clary!" Jace called, and she immediately began to walk towards him, dragging Simon along behind her.

Jace offered her a hand, and she took it without hesitation, much to Simon's annoyance.

"You have to understand." Jace mumbled. "The Silent Brothers aren't like us."

Clary almost smiled. "They lack your charm and superior people skills?"

"Yeah, most people do." He replied with a grin. "The Brothers communicate without using words, using just their thoughts."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"Don't let their silence fool you." Jace warned. "They'll hold the Soul-Sword to your head, and with its blade, carve the truth from your mind. If you're not strong enough, you will die."

"I take it back." She muttered. "That sounds level ten bad."

"Clary." He sighed. "You should know, the pain will be excruciating. You don't have to..."

"Yes." Clary replied firmly. "I do."

"Clary..."

"I'll do anything." She said. There was a finality to her tone that he would have known anywhere. "Walk through fire, battle demons, whatever it takes. I have to get my memories back. I can't... I won't lose you again."

Jace's eyes reflected understanding.

"You won't."

Alec and Isabelle joined them, Simon trailing along behind.

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah." Clary reached for Isabelle's hand, giving it a long squeeze. She sighed. "I can do this."

"Yeah." Simon agreed. "You can. You're Clary freakin' Fray. You can do anything."

He started towards the entrance. Jace stopped him.

"All right, hold up."

"Surprise, surprise." He snapped. "No mundanes allowed, just like in the Institute room, right? Wrong! I've seen every horror movie ever made and the funny best friend who gets left behind... dead man."

"You're not that funny." Alec muttered.

"And you're not her best friend." Isabelle added.

Simon glanced at Clary, to see if she would come to his defense, but she said nothing.

He took another step forward.

"By all means, go ahead." Jace called after him. "Of course, the minute you enter, you'll die."

"Problem is, now I don't trust you."

"He's not lying." Alec said. "Now. He was before. The rune energy in the City of Bones will kill any mundane who dares to enter, so, please..."

"The Brothers creep me out." Isabelle shuddered. "I'll mind the mundane."

"Your sacrifice is noted, Izzy."

"I can't be here anymore." Alec mumbled. "So, Jace, I'm gonna mind the perimeter."

He walked away.

Clary turned to Simon. "I don't wanna leave you."

"Go be a bad ass Shadowhunter, all right?" Simon said. "Get your memories back. I'll be right here... Guarding the entrance to hell."

Isabelle almost cracked a smile.

Clary wrapped her arms around him in a quick, but tight hug.

"You got this." He muttered.

The two watched as Jace's arm wrapped around Clary's shoulders, her own arm sliding around his torso.

"They've always been quite the team." Isabelle told him. "Sweet, isn't it?"

"No." Simon grumbled. "Not really."

* * *

 **Words/dialogue belong to Cassandra Clare/the writers of Shadowhunters**


	49. Chapter 49

**A/N: Words belong to Cassandra Clare**

* * *

Brother Jeremiah cast no shadow.

Clary shuddered, and Jace's grip tightened on her hand.

 _Come._

He glided away from the comforting lights of Second Avenue, moving toward the dark center of the cemetery. It was clear that he expected them to follow.

The grass was dry and crackling underfoot, the marble walls to either side smooth and pearly. There were names carved into the stone of the walls, names and dates.

It took Clary a moment to realize that they were grave markers. A chill scraped up her spine.

She had forgotten to look where she was going.

When she collided with something unmistakably alive, she yelped out loud.

It was Jace.

"Careful, Clary, you'll wake the dead."

She frowned at his attempt for humor. "Why are we stopping?"

He pointed at Brother Jeremiah, who had come to a halt in front of a statue just slightly taller than he was, its base overgrown with moss. The statue was of an angel, the marble so smooth, it was almost translucent. The face of the angel was fierce, and beautiful, and sad. In long white hands the angel held a cup, its rim studded with marble jewels.

Something about the statue tickled Clary's memory with an uneasy familiarity.

There was a date inscribed on the base, _1234_ , and words inscribed around it: _Nephilim: Facilis Descensus Averni._

"It's the Mortal Cup." She muttered.

Jace nodded. "This is the motto of the Nephilim, the Shadowhunters, there on the base."

Clary read it again. "My Latin is a little rusty."

He grinned. "It means _: Shadowhunters: Looking Better in Black Than the Widows of our Enemies Since 1234_."

"Jace." She scolded.

She could almost feel the disapproval radiating off Brother Jeremiah.

 _It means: the descent into Hell is easy._

"Nice and cheery." Clary joked, but a shiver ran down her spine.

Brother Jeremiah drew a stele, faintly glowing, from some inner pocket of his robe, and with the tip he traced the pattern of a rune on the statue's base. The mouth of the stone angel suddenly gaped wide in a silent scream, and a yawning black hole opened in the grassy turf at Jeremiah's feet.

It looked like an open grave.

Slowly Clary approached the edge of it and peered inside.

A set of granite steps led down into the hole, their edges worn soft by years of use. Torches were set along the steps at intervals, flaring hot green and icy blue. The bottom of the stairs was lost in darkness.

Jace took the stairs with the ease of someone who found the situation familiar, if not exactly comfortable. Halfway to the first torch, he paused and looked up at her.

"It's okay, Clary."

She almost believed him.

Clary had barely set her foot on the first step when she felt her arm caught in a cold grip. She looked up in astonishment. Brother Jeremiah was holding her wrist, his icy white fingers digging into the skin. She could see the bony gleam of his scarred face beneath the edge of his cowl.

 _Do not fear. It would take more than a single human cry to wake these dead._

When he released her arm, she skittered down the stairs after Jace, her heart pounding against her ribs. He was waiting for her at the foot of the steps. He'd taken one of the green burning torches out of its bracket and was holding it at eye level. It lent a pale green cast to his skin.

"Are you sure about this?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The stairs ended in a shallow landing; ahead of them stretched a tunnel, long and black, ridged with the curling roots of trees. A faint bluish light was visible at the tunnel's end.

"It's so... Dark." She said lamely.

She wasn't sure when she had let go of his hand, but she grabbed it again, lacing her fingers through his own.

Jace pulled her close. "You used to be afraid of the dark."

"I was?" She seemed surprised. "You... You gave me something... Didn't you?"

He nodded. "My witch light. You kept it under your pillow."

 _Don't be scared, Clary._ He had said. _I'll never let anything happen to you.  
_

Brother Jeremiah moved noiselessly from where he had been standing behind her and headed into the tunnel. After a moment she followed, pulling Jace along behind her. _  
_

Clary's first sight of the Silent City was of row upon row of tall marble arches that rose overhead, disappearing into the distance like the orderly rows of trees in an orchard. The marble itself was a pure, ashy ivory, hard and polished-looking, inset in places with narrow strips of onyx, jasper, and jade.

As they moved away from the tunnel and toward the forest of arches, Clary saw that the floor was inscribed with the same runes that sometimes decorated Jace's skin, and now her own, with lines and whorls and swirling patterns.

As the three of them passed through the first arch, something large and white loomed up on her left side, like an iceberg off the bow of the Titanic. It was a block of white stone, smooth and square, with a sort of door inset into the front.

It reminded her of a child-size playhouse, almost but not quite big enough for her to stand up inside.

"A mausoleum." Jace explained, directing a flash of torchlight at it. Clary could see that a rune was carved into the door, sealed shut with bolts of iron. "A tomb. We bury our dead here."

 _It's where they thought they buried me._

Clary winced.

At the edges of her vision she could see the square white vaults rising on either side of her in orderly rows of tombs, each door locked from the outside. She understood why this was called the Silent City: Its only inhabitants were the mute Brothers and the dead they so zealously guarded.

They reached another staircase leading down into more twilight; Jace thrust the torch ahead of him, streaking the walls with shadows.

"We're going to the second level..."

"Where the archives and the council rooms are." Clary finished.

At the foot of the stairs was another tunnel, which widened out at the end into a square pavilion, each corner was marked by a spire of carved bone.

Torches burned in long onyx holders along the sides of the square, and the air smelled of ashes and smoke. In the center of the pavilion was a long table of black basalt veined in white. Behind the table, against the dark wall, hung an enormous silver sword, point down, its hilt carved in the shape of outspread wings. Seated at the table was a row of Silent Brothers, each wrapped and cowled in the same parchment-colored robes as Jeremiah.

Jeremiah wasted no time.

 _We have arrived. Clarissa, stand before the Council._

She scowled at the name.

Jace chuckled.

She looked at the table, at the long row of silent figures muffled in their heavy robes.

Alternating squares made up the pavilion floor: golden bronze and a darker red. Just in front of the table was a larger square, made of black marble and embossed with a parabolic design of silver stars.

Clary stepped into the center of the black square as if she were stepping in front of a firing squad.

In unison, the brothers raised their hands and pushed their cowls back, baring their scarred faces and the pits of their empty eyes.

Clary's stomach knotted. It was like looking at a row of skeletons, like one of those medieval woodcuts where the dead walked and talked and danced on the piled bodies of the living. Their stitched mouths seemed to grin at her.

 _The Council greets you, Clarissa Fairchild._

It was not just one silent voice inside her head but a dozen, some low and rough, some smooth and monotone, but all were demanding, insistent, pushing at the fragile barriers around her mind.

 _Perhaps we should say: Welcome back? It is not every day one returns from the dead._

Jace cleared his throat, a warning.

Clary ignored the comment.

"I'm ready." She said.

The first contact came as a whisper inside her head, delicate as the brush of a falling leaf.

 _State your name for the Council._

"Clarissa Fray... Fairchild. Clarissa Fairchild."

The first voice was joined by others.

 _Who are you?_

"I'm Clary." She replied. Somehow, she knew the Brothers often disapproved of nicknames, but she did not care. "I live at..."

She was a foster child.

Thoughts of the latest family she had been living with had slipped her for days now.

"I live at 807 Berkeley Place in Brooklyn." Clary said, after a moment. "I am sixteen years old. My mother's name was..."

She winced again.

"Jocelyn Fairchild."

* * *

 **Idris**

 **Two Years Ago**

 **Lightwood Manor**

* * *

"Clary!"

She slapped a hand to keep from laughing.

He would find her eventually, she just wasn't ready for that to happen.

When he moved past her hiding place, she took off running down the hallway in the opposite direction, only slowing when she neared Robert and Maryse's study.

The last thing she needed was a lecture.

The door was slightly ajar.

"You _can't_ take her, Maryse."

She stopped.

She would have known that voice anywhere.

"Excuse me?" Maryse replied.

She could just barely see her, sitting behind the desk, not a hair out of place. Her eyes were hard, her gaze refusing to break contact with the woman sitting across from her.

Maryse Lightwood was a complicated woman.

She gave orders, and she expected them to be followed without hesitation, she almost never smiled, and she could come across as a very cold, unfeeling woman, but beneath her cool demeanor was someone who loved her husband, her children, her family with everything she had.

She was the only mother Clary had ever known.

"I said-"

Maryse threw a hand upward to cut her off, a motion Alec had perfected years before.

"I heard what you said." She hissed. "What I don't understand is where you get off telling me what I can, and cannot do with my own daughter."

"Clarissa is _my-"_

"Oh, don't you _dare."_ Maryse snapped. "You lost any right to call her _your_ daughter when you left her here with us!"

 _"I_ carried her, Maryse."

The dark-haired woman scoffed. "You might have given birth to her, Jocelyn, but _I_ am the one who raised her, I'm the one who trained her, I am the one who has been protecting her all these years. She may be your blood, she might even carry your name, but she is _mine_. She is a Lightwood. She is _my_ daughter."

* * *

 **New York**

 **Present Day**

 **City of Bones**

* * *

The images came faster now, like the pages of one of those books where the drawings seemed to move when they were flipped.

A sudden pain lanced through her right arm.

She shrieked as the images fell away and she spun upward, breaking the surface of consciousness like a diver breaking up through a wave. There was something cold pressed against her cheek.

Clary pried her eyes open and saw silver stars.

She blinked twice before she realized that she was lying on the marble floor, her knees curled up to her chest. When she moved, hot pain shot up her arm.

She sat up gingerly.

The skin over her left elbow was split and bleeding. She must have landed on it when she fell. She looked around, disoriented, and saw Jace looking at her, unmoving but very tense around the mouth.

 _The_ _block inside your mind is stronger than we had anticipated._

Jace was at her side, examining the scrape. He still said nothing.

 _It can be safely undone only by the one who put it there. For us to remove it would be to kill you._

Clary scrambled to her feet, cradling her injured arm. "But I don't know who put it there! If I knew that, I wouldn't have come here."

 _The answer to that is woven into the thread of your thoughts. In your waking dream you saw it written._

"I..." She shook her head frantically. "I didn't see _anything!"_

Brother Jeremiah got to his feet. As if this were a signal, the rest of the Brothers rose alongside him. They inclined their heads toward Jace, a gesture of silent acknowledgment, before they filed away among the pillars and were gone.

"Clary." Jace turned her to face him. "What is it? What did you see?"

"I..." Clary whispered, blinking back tears. "Jocelyn."


	50. Chapter 50

Alec almost sighed in relief when he spotted them.

"Are you okay?"

Jace produced his stele, his fingers locking around Clary's wrist as he began to burn an iratze over the scrape on her arm.

Neither said a thing. Clary merely winced as the pain began to subside.

"What happened?" Alec demanded, growing impatient. "What did you find out?"

"It was definitely a Warlock." Jace said, his lips forming a thin line. "And if we want to get Clary's memories back, we're going to have to find out which one it was..."

"We'll need to pay them a visit." He finished. "Is that all you found out?"

Jace and Clary shared a look, one that didn't go unnoticed by the eldest Lightwood.

"What happened?"

"I..." She clasped Jace's hand, and he pulled her close to him. "I don't know who took my memories, but I think I know who was behind it all."

Alec raised an eye brow. "Who?"

"Jocelyn." The two said together.

His jaw tightened.

It seemed as if he were deep in thought.

"Alec-"

"She wasn't at the Right of Mourning." He raked a hand through his hair. "I thought it was strange at the time, but..."

"There were more important things to worry about." Jace said, his eyes faraway.

"I don't understand." Clary muttered. "Why would my own mother-"

Alec threw a hand upward to cut her off.

The gesture was so familiar.

"She was never exactly a mother to you, Clary."

 _She may be your blood, she might even carry your last name, but she is ours.  
_

 _She is my daughter._

She opened her mouth to reply, but Isabelle reappearing from around the corner seemed to register something inside of her.

"Where's Simon?" She demanded.

No one answered.

"Where's Simon?" Clary repeated, her tone urgent.

Isabelle sighed. "I told him to stay in the van. I've searched everywhere.

"He's gone?"

"I can't find him."

"You were supposed to protect him!" Clary hissed as she took off running. "Simon!"

Jace groaned, following after her. "These mundanes are killing me."

The van door was open, no Simon in sight.

"Simon!"

"Is that the mundane's name?"

She turned, her eyes widening as she caught sight of her best friend being dangled by his sneakers.

A man was grinning at her, but it was cold, calculated. "I'm afraid Simon's coming with us."

"No!" Clary shouted, starting towards them. Jace caught her around the waist. "No! He's not a part of this!"

"And it'll be my pleasure to kill you unless you return him."

She blinked in surprise.

Jace _hated_ mundanes, Simon in particular.

"Careful." Alec warned. "We'd be violating the Accords."

The man's smile grew. "I'm afraid your sidekick's quite right. The Night Children have broken no laws. We're negotiating. The mundane, unharmed, in exchange for the Mortal Cup."

Clary gasped.

"And the clock is ticking. Tick-tock, people."

"Clary!" Simon called.


	51. Chapter 51

"Clary..." Isabelle began, as they started towards the Institute. "I am _so-"_

Clary shook her head.

She expected anger, they all knew Clary had a temper. Instead, the red head reached for her hand, squeezing it softly.

"It's not your fault, Isabelle."

It wasn't.

Even if she'd wanted to, Clary could not blame Isabelle. Ever.

She almost smiled.

"The vamps want the Cup."

"Why?" Clary asked. "It makes new Shadowhunters."

"Nobody wants Valentine forming an army loyal to himself." Jace told her.

"Plus, it controls demons." Alec added.

"They'll propose a trade. Simon for the Cup."

"But we don't _have_ the Cup!" Clary snapped, releasing her grip on Isabelle's hand to throw her own up into the air. "Jocelyn took it with her when she fled Idris!"

No one bothered to mention that they had never told her about Idris.

Clary _was_ still in there, somewhere, and while it was wonderful that some of her memories were beginning to resurface, it was also bittersweet, for she would never be the Clary they knew and loved until she could recall the little things; Jace's favorite song to play on the piano, what Alec had named his first bow at the age of four, how Isabelle organized her shoes.

They wanted, _needed_ her back. Without her, they were incomplete.

Jace took the steps to the main floor two at a time, Isabelle and Clary following along behind him. Alec disappeared, returning a moment later with two large books under his arms. They fell onto the table with a loud thud.

He began to flip through one, his sister focusing on the other.

Clary let out an agitated sigh.

"Can any of this help me find Simon?" She inquired. "Where is he, anyway? Some kind of crypt in Transylvania?"

Jace almost smiled. "Actually, no."

"That was Camille's outfit, right?" Isabelle asked.

"They're locals." He explained, recapturing Clary's attention. "They're at the Hotel DuMort, down in Gansevoort Street."

"And we came back here _why?"_ Clary demanded. She latched onto Jace's arm. "We have to go there. Let's go, now, come on!"

"We need a Clave resolution for that." Jace told her. "The four of us can't declare war on the vamps all by ourselves."

"And we can't react without considering our options." Alec added, his lips forming a thin line. "Downworlders are slaves to their impulses."

"We're not, Alec." Isabelle replied with a sigh. "You can't just jump on all the Downworlders."

The raven-haired boy scoffed. "Oh, that's right. Seelies have their charms, apparently. Right?"

Clary raised an eye brow, unfazed by the siblings quarrel. It had driven her insane to watch Simon fight with his sister, she would have given anything to have a brother or sister, but with Alec and Isabelle, she didn't mind. It was as if she were used to it, as if she had watched, listened to them argue a million times before.

"Seelies?" She asked.

"Like faeries." Jace explained. "The Fair Folk. Add pixies, nixies, elves... Anybody half-angel, half-demon. It's pretty much a catch-all term."

"Izzy can tell you all about them." Alec mumbled, smirking at his sister. "She's got a thing."

"We've all got our things, don't we?" She shot back.

There was something in her that couldn't let the dark-haired girl be insulted, even if it was by her own brother.

"Shut up, Alec." Clary grumbled. He stared at her in surprise. "Okay, I can't listen to this. Simon's been kidnapped by vampires. I guess I'll just take care of it myself."

She started towards the door.

"Clary." Jace called. "You're gonna get yourself killed."

He felt torn.

This was the girl he had known, the girl he had loved, and it wasn't. Clary Fairchild would have done anything for those she loved, but she wouldn't have done it alone.

Clary Fairchild knew that herself, Jace, Isabelle and Alec were a team. Always. Forever.

She kept walking.

"Simon, too."

That stopped her.

Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes full of worry.

Devastation.

He would have given anything to never see her look like that again, even if it meant rescuing the rat faced boy who truly believed that one day, Clary might love him back.

"Then help me." Clary begged. "While we consider other options, my best friend is suffering. Is that something Shadowhunters understand or am I just being a mundane?"

"You're not a mundane." Alec mumbled.

A moment of silence passed.

"Clary's right." Jace declared. He motioned for her to return to the table, the four leaning towards one another so no one else would hear. "They made the first move. We're gonna take care of this ourselves, right now."

Clary beamed at him.

"This is a bad idea." Alec snapped. "I..."

"What?" Jace taunted, narrowing his eyes at his parabati. "Have you got a better one? Look, the vamps broke the Accords. They kidnapped a mundie, that's a big no-no. The Clave will give us a lecture and then they'll be glad we did it."

It was Isabelle's turn to smirk. "Hard to argue with that."

But he was still Alec, and he still had to be the voice of reason.

"Even if we went ahead, I don't see how we get out of here without having to explain where we're going. We need weapons, and we can't let anyone see us get them."

Clary's hands were trembling. Jace covered them with his own, a familiar smile on his face. "I know where to get what we need."

* * *

 **Dialogue belongs to the writers of Shadowhunters**


	52. Chapter 52

**Dialogue belongs to the writers of Shadowhunters**

* * *

"Would you like to help me?"

"Yes." He whispered, the disappointment clear in his tone when she pulled back from the kiss. "Anything."

"Could you tell me where to find the Mortal Cup?"

He blinked in surprise.

"I..." He mumbled. "I wish I could... But I don't know."

The woman smiled. "Clary knows."

He barely registered the sound of her name on the stranger's lips.

"No." Simon replied, almost giddily. "She doesn't."

She giggled, the sound music to his ears.

"What if she didn't tell you?"

"No... That's not it."

For a moment, he snapped back to reality.

Clary told him everything, just as he told her everything. It was just what best friends did.

"Why do you think we went to the City of Bones?" Simon asked, again falling under the beautiful stranger's influence. She's trying to find a way to remember, but they said it's like someone erased her whole past... Some kind of spell or something."

She pulled away from him abruptly, her smile disappearing, but only for a moment.

"Damn Magnus Bane." She hissed.

Simon stared at her in a daze. "What's Magnus Bane?"

"Nothing." She said, a little too smoothly. "Nothing, darling."


	53. Chapter 53

"I didn't drive." She muttered, watching as Alec staggered from the backseat. "Did I?"

"No." Jace replied, grateful for the cool air as he leaned against the passenger side door for support. "You sure didn't."

Isabelle was the lucky one, reluctantly leaving the group to ask for information from one of her seelie _friends_ , much to Alec's annoyance. When he'd tried to object, to tell his sister that she needed to have more respect for herself than to associate with fairies, Clary had delivered a swift kick to his shin that he was still pouting about nearly an hour later.

But, he had learned his lesson, one he had somehow forgotten.

Even with her memory somewhere in limbo, Clary was still Isabelle's parabatai, bound to protect her from anything and everything.

They were again in a cemetery, much to Clary's discomfort.

"Whose grave is it?" She asked warily.

"Mary Milligan." Jace replied. "Born January tenth, eighteen-oh-two, died, January tenth, eighteen-seventy-eight."

He and Alec began a brisk walk that she could barely keep up with.

"What are we looking for?"

"Cache of weapons." He explained. "Stashed here with Mrs. Milligan."

Clary blinked. The information seemed familiar, but she was still confused. "Why are there Shadowhunter weapons in a churchyard?"

"Because all of the ancient religions recognized demons." Jace told her, his eyes scanning the names. "Or at least they used to. They forgot about the threat because we've been here to protect them."

"Typical mundane failure of imagination." Alec muttered.

"Are you saying we did too good a job?" Clary snapped. "You just can't let up, can you?"

"You're not a-"

"Alec..."

"You're not." He insisted, stalking forward to grip both of her shoulders. "You're not a mundane, you didn't grow up in Brooklyn, your name isn't Clary Fray."

"Alec." Jace warned.

"You are Clary Fairchild." Alec continued, ignoring his brother. "Shadowhunter, one of us."

"No." Clary whispered. "I'm not."

"Clary..." He began.

She wrenched away from his grasp.

"Clary."

She stepped even further away when they both moved to comfort her. "I'm not a Shadowhunter. I'm not Clary Fray, or Fairchild, whatever my last name supposedly is... I don't know who, or _what_ I am right now. I need to get my memories back for that to happen."

"Clary..."

"I need to find Simon." Clary said. "None of this matters without him."

Alec opened his mouth to reply, but Jace threw a hand upward to cut him off.

"Give us a minute."

He looked like he wanted to protest, though a second glance in her direction had him nodding shortly as he spun on his heel to walk away.

"Clary." Jace muttered. "This isn't your fault."

She refused to meet his gaze.

"This is absolutely my fault."

He took a step towards her, holding his hand out. Just as she began to reach for him, a familiar voice began to shout his name.

"Jace! Over here."

"Yeah." He called back, shooting her an apologetic look. "Coming."

He didn't want to leave her, though it was clear by Alec's tone that he wanted to speak privately.

"Are you gonna be all right?"

"Yeah." Clary said. Little by little, she regained her composure. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm just... Um..."

"Clary?"

She squeezed his hand. "Just give me a minute, okay?"

"Okay." Jace agreed, starting towards his parabati.

Clary began to wander through the headstones.

He turned his head, just enough so he could make out her figure in his peripheral. When her memories returned, maybe even right then and there, she would become annoyed, she would tell him that she didn't need to be protected, but he couldn't help it.

He highly doubted that he would, or could ever let her out of his sight again.


	54. Chapter 54

Alec's gaze only hardened as Jace neared him.

"Alec..."

"We're crossing a line into vamp territory."

"That's the point." Jace replied with a grin. "Come on, Alec, cheer up. It's going to be fun."

"Damn it, Jace." Alec snapped. "Just... Just think this through. You don't even _like_ this guy."

"Neither do you." He said childishly.

"Jace."

"Well, you don't."

 _"Jace."_

An awkward silence fell between the brothers.

"This isn't about the mundane." Jace mumbled, after a moment. "This is about Clary."

Alec sighed, raking a hand through his dark hair.

He had forgotten just how irrational they could become when it meant protecting one another.

He would have agreed, without hesitation, if it were his parents, Max, Jace, Isabelle, or Clary.

He would not risk his life, the life of his siblings, to save a mundane.

And yet...

This boy was important to Clary, though he couldn't understand why. In her old life, she had never given the human world a second thought, only following through with her duty to protect them from demons.

She was alive.

They had finally gotten her back, she was safe. She was the same klutzy red head he had spent years tormenting and protecting.

Like a sister.

He couldn't lose her a second time.

He wouldn't.

If Clary was going to walk into a hotel full of vampires, then he would be right there beside her, no matter how much he hated the thought of it.

"Jace!" Clary called. "Alec! I think I found it!"

With a tight smile in his parabati's direction, Alec spun on his heel, starting towards the red-haired girl. Jace followed along closely behind him.

"Mary Milligan!" Clary announced, gesturing to the tomb stone. She read the engraving. " _Beloved servant?_ Who wants _that_ on a headstone?"

Jace produced his stele from his back pocket. "Someone who is in service to a cause greater than themselves. At least she is now. Abracadabra."

The rune against the tomb began to glow.

Clary's eyes widened, a funny look on her face.

"We don't actually say that." Alec told her, guessing her thoughts.

Shooting him a quick grin, she peered inside.

"Whoa." She mumbled. "Where's Mrs. Milligan?"


	55. Chapter 55

She didn't know how to feel when Alec, too, left them.

They had raided Mary Milligan's grave, or what Clary had thought was a grave, and now Jace's jacket was filled with knives, and a few extra seraph blades.

Swords were even tucked into her own coat, her hands nervously clutching each handle as he handed them off to her.

Alec knew how to use a seraph blade, but he preferred a bow.

 _If you call me that_ _one_ _more time..._

She blinked, snapping back to reality when Jace muttered her name.

"Once we enter the building through there, they'll know something's up." He said, gazing up at the night sky. "But if our plan works, we'll have time to find Simon."

They had gotten there by slipping around the corner of the hotel into an alley that had probably once been a service lane for deliveries. It was narrow, choked with garbage: moldy cardboard boxes, empty glass bottles, shredded plastic, scattered things that Clary thought at first were toothpicks, but up close looked like...

 _Bones._

Jace had told her not to look too closely, that going through a vampire's trash was rarely a pretty picture.

He had also reactivated her Silence rune.

The hotel seemed to be a warren of mazelike corridors opening onto empty storage rooms, a deserted laundry-moldy stacks of linen towels piled high in rotted wicker baskets, even a ghostly kitchen, banks of stainless steel counters stretching away into the shadows.

"Focus." He muttered.

It was a glamour, she realized.

The building had not fallen into disrepair, if anything, it was still as beautiful as it had once been, with its high beamed ceilings, and polished marble floors.

"The mundane world is all into vampires." Jace mumbled. "I don't get it. They see everyone else as an animated sack of meat. "

"Yeah." Clary agreed with a shudder. "I certainly don't see the romance."

"That's because you know it's all real." He replied. "Still, you gotta hand it to them, though. They know how to frame a narrative."

 _You used to only read the classics._ She thought. _I had to beg you to stay in the room when Izzy would read Harry Potter out loud for Max._

When had he found time to read _Twilight,_ or the _Vampire Diaries?_

"How will we find Simon?" She asked, shaking away the strange... _memories?_

She didn't know what to call them anymore.

"He'll be in the most secure room in the building. Trust me, we'll know it when we see it."

"What if they do an encanto on him?" Clary didn't hesitate to use the word. He didn't have to explain _everything_ to her. "Will he turn into a vampire?"

Jace almost smiled. "No, you have to drink vampire blood for that. Even then, there's more to it. It's an overly involved process, if you ask me. "

"But I don't get it. What if a vampire bites him?"

"They won't drain him right away." He said, producing a knife from his pocket. Somehow, she knew that he hated waiting, that his impatience often had him tossing the blade upward, only to catch it seconds later in attempt for _something_ to do. "They like to take their time. Vampires are real gourmets."

Her eyes widened. "He'll be terrified."

"Actually." Jace seemed bored by the conversation. "He'll feel kind of high, kind of like he's in love."

She blanched.

"With the one who bit him?"

"Yeah."

"That's awful!"

"Awful?" Jace repeated, raising an eye brow. "Guess I wouldn't know."

"You've never been bitten?" Clary questioned.

His words echoed through her mind.

"You've never been in love."

An unreadable look crossed his face.

 _Te amo.  
_

 _Te amo in aeternum._

She started to reach for him. "Jace..."

"What's the deal with you and that guy, anyway?" He asked, stepping away from her.

Clary rolled her eyes. He had always been good at changing the subject.

"He seems kinda..."

"Be careful." Clary warned.

"Unworthy of you?" He suggested. Now, he seemed amused. "How's that?"

Clary crossed her arms. "You really think you have it all figured out?"

He nodded. "I do"

She felt drawn to Jace, a feeling she still couldn't quite place, but she wouldn't stand back, and allow him to be rude to her best friend.

 _Jace is your best friend._ A voice in her head practically screamed. _Jace, Izzy and Alec!_ _You don't really_ _know_ _the mundane! Why do you care about him?  
_

 _The Lightwoods are the ones who has always been there for you.  
_

 _The Lightwoods are the ones who spent the last two years thinking you were dead._

"Clary." He muttered, stepping towards her again. He ran his hands up and down her arms, trying to keep her warm against the October chill. "We'll find your mundie, I promise."

"Jace..."

"Sun's gonna come up soon." Jace said, still holding her. "Remember how to use the blade? Keep your arms steady and don't overestimate what you know. They can be tricky."

She nodded slowly, trying to keep her nerves at bay.

"Where are Alec and Isabelle?" She asked.

Jace grinned. "Being distracting."

Clary frowned. "But Alec hates being the distraction."

* * *

"I hate being the distraction." He mumbled.

Isabelle shrugged in response, examining her nails. She had painted them only a day before, but the polish already looked old.

She used to have to force Clary to have a girls day. The red head had been against _anything_ girly, much to her parabati's annoyance. As much as she wanted, needed for Clary's memories to return, perhaps she could enjoy the new version of her best friend for a moment or two, to convince her that she had a beautiful figure that she needed to stop hiding away in her baggy sweatshirts and oversized jeans.

"Where are we. exactly?" Alec demanded.

"It's an old meatpacker's service entrance." She explained, sounding bored. "If we go back there, we come up into the basement of the Hotel DuMort. Perfect, right? We distract the vamps, Clary and Jace have time to find Simon."

"Okay."

 _"Okay?"_ Isabelle repeated, raising an eye brow. "It was hard work interrogating Meliorn to get this intel."

Alec let out a sarcastic laugh, readying his bow. "Great job, Izzy. You have faerie dust on your dress. And I hate being the distraction."

She sighed. "You said that already."


	56. Chapter 56

She hated being protected.

She had come to that realization when Jace shoved her behind the wall, practically throwing himself on top of her as if to act as a human shield. He thought he'd heard a noise, but the coast was clear, and she pushed him away, not missing the almost pained expression that crossed his face.

It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

 _He'll never stop protecting you._ She thought. _Just like you'll never stop protecting him._ _You'll never stop protecting any of them._

That had become evident when she kicked Alec, the gesture seeming so familiar that it was almost second nature, after he insulted Isabelle. He had been joking, they had that kind of relationship, the kind where they could say whatever they wanted to one another, not that she cared.

No one, not even Alec, or Jace, who, as her brothers, had the right to mock, to scold and to tease her, said anything bad about Isabelle. Ever.

Maybe the protection thing went both ways.

While she had defended Isabelle, Alec had defended her, before everything had gone wrong.

She hadn't admitted it at the time, but Simon's judgement over the outfit she was still wearing had hurt, though he hadn't finished his sentence, thanks to the raven-haired Shadowhunter.

 _Always._

"Forever." Jace mumbled, out of habit.

She hadn't realized she had spoken aloud.

If they were having a moment, he was quick to end it, briskly continuing down the corridor.

She struggled to keep up with him.

* * *

"Any day now." She grumbled.

"Yeah." Alec replied bitterly, struggling to reach for his stele. "If you would hold the door still, it would be a lot easier."

Their backs were pressed against the cool metal of the door, trying to buy Jace and Clary enough time to rescue the bane of everyone's existence.

Finally, he produced the tool, and tried to draw a locking rune.

It didn't work.

He _really_ hated being the distraction.

"It's not taking it." Alec grumbled.

Isabelle nodded shortly, her movements blurred as she grabbed the seraph blade from his bow quiver, striking the pipe above her head.

With a grin, she shoved the circular tube in between the handles of the door, giving the two just enough time to prepare themselves for the impending battle.

"Whoever said _the pen is mightier than the sword_ , was an idiot."

Alec couldn't help but smile. "When you're right, you're right."

"Do you think they know where we are?"

His mind wandered to Jace and Clary, though only for a moment, the promise he had made them before he'd started back towards the Institute to retrieve his weapon.

 _I'll see you at dawn.  
_

 _At dawn._

As much as he hated the idea of going against the Clave, as much as he hated that they had entered vampire territory to save a worthless mundane, he would have done anything for his parabatai, for his sister, both of them.

"That's the idea, right?"

"How long do you think we have to distract them for?"

She was still grinning. "Ten more minutes."

"Ten minutes?" Alec shot her an exasperated look. "Are you kidding? We're liquid lunch in five."

"So let's distract them." Isabelle said.

"So let's distract them." He echoed, reaching for his bow.

The pipe bent in half as the first downworlder burst through the door.

* * *

 **Dialogue belong to the writers of Shadowhunters**


	57. Chapter 57

**Dialogue belongs to the writers of Shadowhunters**

* * *

"Why..." He drew out, glancing around the room in a hazed amazement. "Why is it so loud out there? What _is_ that?"

"It's nothing, dearest." She promised, her back to him. "A party. You know the neighbors in these places... Short-term rentals."

The woman smiled, but it lacked the warmth that had always come so naturally to Clary.

 _Clary.  
_

Slowly, the confusion began to fade.

He had to get out of there.

He had to find Clary, to save her, to take her home.

 _Unless she already_ _is_ _home._

He tried to push the thought away.

She wasn't the girl that Jace, Alec and Isabelle wanted her to be. She was not Clary _Fairchild_ , she couldn't be. She was Clary Fray, the girl he had known for almost his entire life.

The girl he had been in love with for as long as he could remember.

"Bloody Mary's for everyone!"

The door swung open.

The dark-haired vampire that had pulled him from his van back at the entrance of hell stood there, a knife in his hand.

"Where is everyone?" She demanded.

 _"Simon?"_

He snapped back to reality at the sound of her voice.

"Clary!" Simon shouted. "I'm here!"

Suddenly, his right arm was twisted behind his back, the blade pressed against his neck.

"Don't move." He warned. "I know you wanna find out how this story ends."

"Thank you, Raphael. I'll take care of this from here."

"You don't have to bother."

"No." She said, waving him away. "Honestly, I've had it with this thing. Give it to me. I'll finish it off."

"Camille." Disapproval dripped from his tone. "We have a bigger problem. They're here, and you can't be caught. You're too valuable. Don't worry, I'll kill it.

"That's a little excessive..." Simon muttered.

"Shut up." Camille hissed. "Take the back passage out through the tunnels. Go!"

* * *

"Now you listen and do exactly as I say..." Raphael warned, pressing the knife a little harder against his skin. "Nothing more. They're coming."

Clary rounded the corner, Jace right behind her. Simon felt disgusted as the blonde Shadowhunter reached out, seizing her arm before she could get close enough.

"Simon!"

"Clary!" Jace pulled her back. "That's not gonna do any good."

"Listen to him, Clary _Fairchild_."

Simon frowned at the name.

They had the wrong girl, the wrong Clary. She was Clary _Fray_ , a girl without a home, a girl without a family.

A girl who had only ever needed _him._

Clary's grip tightened against the blade in her hand.

"Put it away." Raphael hissed. "I've had more than enough of your friend for one day. I'd love to cut his throat. Don't give me a reason. Put it away!"

Both swords disappeared into their jackets.

Alec and Isabelle rounded the corner.

"Put it _away."_

Their weapons too, vanished.

"Simon." Clary called, catching his attention. "Are you all right?"

"I wouldn't say all right..."

"Stop talking!" Raphael snapped. The knife was almost digging into his neck. "Now..."

A cold smile spread across his face.

"If you would all just follow me."

Alec took the lead, his hand on Isabelle's arm he pulled her along. Jace had a grip on Clary's waist, and it seemed that it was taking everything he had to keep her from rushing towards him.

"Let's go!" The vampire commanded, nodding towards the stairs. "Come on, let's go! Up here now! That's right, get down there now! Get down there or I'll kill him right now!"

"Look." Clary said. Simon tried not to roll his eyes at the sight of her hand resting on top of Jace's, not as if she wanted to fling it away in disgust, but as if she were relying on his support, like she _needed_ him _._ "We're not gonna hurt you, we just want Simon."

Raphael barked out a laugh. "I'm glad you do. We don't!"

They continued down the corridor.

"We wanted _you._ "

Simon resisted the urge to punch him. The vampires would get Clary over his dead body.

"Well, here I am." She hissed, throwing herself forward.

He was so grateful for Jace in that moment.

"Stop!" The Shadowhunter warned, holding her back.

Clary would _not_ risk her life for him. Simon was sure it was the only thing he and Jace would ever agree on.

"I said _wanted_. Not my idea." Raphael stopped walking. "Now, get out! Go!"

Clary was between Jace and Isabelle, the raven-haired girl's fingers locked around her wrist. Jace was still preventing her from moving, despite her best efforts.

"Not without Simon."

"Shut up!" He cried. "Open that door right now, or I'll kill him right here."

"Listen to him!" Jace snapped.

Clary whimpered.

"Jace... Simon will die if..."

She would not die for him.

But he would die for her.

He wouldn't give his life for some great reason, for something that others could truly be proud of he wouldn't do it to seem noble, he would just do it for _her._

He would never forgive himself for not saving her if he had the chance.

"Clary." He whispered. "Go."

"Not without you!"

 _"Go."_ Simon insisted.

Alec threw the door open, and the vampire dove away from the sunlight, his grip on Simon's arm loosening, but only slightly. Isabelle followed her brother, pulling a trembling Clary along behind her.

Suddenly, Simon was thrown forward. Jace caught him effortlessly, steadying him, before pushing him away, as if disgusted to be touching him.

"Go!" Raphael barked. "Take him! Go!"

Simon paused. "I don't know how to thank you."

"Don't thank me." He hissed. "You mean nothing. This is about Valentine and the chaos he can bring."

He opened his mouth to speak, but Jace grabbed hold of his jacket again, yanking him forward.

"Come on!"

* * *

"Simon!"

His clothes were crumpled and grimy, and he had lost his glasses somewhere, but other than the gash against his forehead, he seemed unharmed. He looked younger, defenseless, and a little dazed.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Are _you?"_ Clary shot back.

He threw his arms around her in response, holding her tightly to him. His clothes smelled of blood and sweat and dirt, his heart was beating a mile a minute and she was pressing on his bruises, but it was a relief nevertheless to be held by her and to know, really know, that everything was going to be all right.

"Clary." He muttered. "I thought... I thought you..."

"Wouldn't come back for you?" She finished. "Simon... Of course I did."

Everything about her was so familiar, from the soft curls that reached down to her waist, to her short stature, where he almost had to bend just embrace her.

He felt someone watching her, and when he glanced back just for a moment, he saw Jace turning away, as if the brightness of the rising sun hurt his eyes. Simon tightened his grip on her.

"Shouldn't we get the hell out of here?"

Clary genuinely seemed surprised. "Why, Simon?"

"They're right downstairs." He reminded her.

"Let them come after us." Jace said with a scoff. "They'll turn into a bunch of fried eggs out here. I thought you said you watch movies."

He moved to speak with Alec and Isabelle.

"Simon." Clary muttered, recapturing his attention. "Don't you ever, _ever_ let yourself get in that kind of trouble again. Got it?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yeah."

And then, with one last squeeze, she detached herself from him, climbing the ladder that lead to the top of the old hotel to join the others.

Jace turned to her, almost smiling.

Simon watched in disgust as the blonde slipped an arm around his best friend's shoulders.

Clary leaned into Jace, burying her face into the crook of his neck. Alec and Isabelle shared a small smile. It looked as if they had known one another their entire lives.

Slowly, he came to a heartbreaking realization.

The girl in front of him was not Clary Fray.

She was Clary Fairchild, and when she got her memories back...

He had no idea what that meant for him.


	58. Chapter 58

"You look exhausted."

She shrugged in response. "It's been a long day."

 _It's been a long two years._ He wanted to say, but he didn't, instead reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder.

She grinned back at him lazily.

"You need sleep, Clary."

"I need to-"

"Would you stop worrying about your mundie?" Alec demanded. The comment earned him a jab to the ribs, she really did need sleep, for there had not been even the tiniest amount of force behind her movement. "We'll take care of Simon."

"Alec..."

"Clary." There was a slight authoritativeness to his tone that he had used almost constantly when they were younger. "You need sleep."

Clary nodded, too tired to argue. She started towards the infirmary. Alec's grip on her arm tightened.

"Alec?"

"You didn't think you would have your own room here?" He asked with a grin.

Something seemed to register in her.

"Where is Jace?" Clary demanded. "And where's Isabelle?"

"Here." The two said in unison.

She turned to face them, narrowing her eyes in amusement.

They had returned to the Institute hours before, and the three siblings had disappeared while she waited for permission to see Simon. She had thought they were sleeping, something they rightfully deserved after staying out all night just to help her.

Jace and Isabelle looked even more exhausted than before.

"Is that..." She stepped closer to him, reaching out to run a hand through his golden locks. "Do you have _paint_ in your hair?"

He merely grinned at her.

"Jace." Clary laughed tiredly. "What did you do?"

"That's for me to know..."

"And for you to... Dot, dot, dot." Isabelle finished, reaching for her hand. "Come with me."

Clary began to follow along behind her, only to stop when they reached the doorway, glancing back at them over her shoulder. "Aren't you guys coming?"

Jace shook his head, answering for the both of them.

"You guys go ahead." He told them. "We'll see you in the morning."

Clary smiled at him, allowing Isabelle to pull her from the room. The moment they were gone, the brothers turned to face one another. Alec nodded at him shortly before the two started towards the infirmary.

That was the thing about being parabatai.

Sometimes, certain decisions could be made without discussion, especially when the choice was mutual.

* * *

The healer had been very uninterested in Simon, though he did his duty, and treated the mundane before retiring to his own domain. Now, the boy lay seemingly acutely uncomfortable, surrounded by dozens of pillows.

Blankets had been heaped over his legs.

He returned their gazes with just as much enthusiasm they had given him upon entering.

None.

The Institute was sworn to shelter Shadowhunters, not their mundane friends, especially when they had worn out their welcome.

And Simon most certainly had worn out his.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Alec threw a hand upward, cutting him off.

"It's our turn to talk." Jace hissed, dropping down onto the bed beside his own. "So I suggest you shut up, and listen, because we're only going to say this once."

Alec remained standing, his face a cold mask of indifference.

"You need to leave." He said. "Go home."

"Home." Simon repeated. The word sounded foreign. "Look, nobody wants to go _home_ more than I do, but-"

"But nothing." Jace snapped. "You don't deserve to be here, not after everything you've done-"

He looked taken aback. "Everything _I've_ done?"

Alec swallowed hard. "You almost got Clary killed. Jace too."

"I almost..." Simon blinked, trying to process the elder boy's words. "What are you talking about?"

"More than half of the Downworld is probably hunting her now because they think she has the Mortal Cup!" Alec replied angrily. "She saved your life after you were stupid enough to leave the van! Do you know how much danger you put her in?"

"I didn't ask her to-"

"You didn't have to." Jace said. "You don't know her like we know her. Clary thinks she has to save the world; she'd gladly get herself killed trying, but that doesn't mean you should encourage her to do so."

"I..."

Suddenly, Jace was in front of him, his hand wrapping around Simon's throat, not tightly enough to cause any permanent damage, but effective enough to cut off his air supply

"Clary will not die for you." He warned, his tone dark. Murderous. "Do you understand? I lost her once, I won't lose her again. She will _not_ risk her life to save yours again."

Alec pushed his parabati back, forcing him to release the mundane.

"Just..." Alec drew out, pulling Jace along behind him. "Stay the hell away from her if you know what's good for you."


	59. Chapter 59

**Dialogue belongs to the writers of Shadowhunters**

* * *

He was tall, with maple-syrup-colored skin, gold-green eyes like a cat's, and tangled black hair. _  
_

 _Your mother feels that this is the only way she can protect you.  
_

A wave of dizziness came over her, the strong sensation that she was going to faint.

 _I need to get back to the Lightwood's, my real family!_

She was safe with the Lightwood's, she _belonged_ with them, with Robert and Maryse, the only parents she had ever known, with Alec, who critiqued, and criticized her, who drove her insane, the brother she had never wanted, but loved just the same, with Isabelle, her sister, her best friend, her parabatai, with Max, the sweetest little boy she had ever known.

She belonged with Jace, protective, loving, loyal Jace. _  
_

 _You will never see any of them again_.

She began to toss and turn, the silk sheets bunching up in her fists.

 _In a moment, you will not remember any of this._

 _Wake up._ She told herself. _You have to wake up!_

 _You will not forget about Jace, Izzy and Alec._

She bolted upright in bed, gasping, hair plastered to her neck with cold sweat.

A hand rested heavily on her shoulder, squeezing softly. Electricity show through her entire body, goosebumps spreading across her arms.

The feeling that only came about whenever _he_ was around.

"Hey." A familiar voice mumbled. "It's okay, I'm here, you're safe."

And he was there, his heterochromia eyes brooding with great concern.

She wanted to grab him, to wind her arms around his torso, bury her face into the crook of his neck, and hold on for dear life.

"Jace." She whispered, her tone clear with relief.

"What?" He asked, raising a brow in confusion.

He was gone.

Her heart ached for a moment, but just as quickly, she snapped back to reality, struggling to focus on the boy sitting in front of her.

"Simon."

"Yeah." He said, his eyes full of confusion.

She let out a breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding in.

"Hey." He muttered, running his hand up and down her arm. "I got you. You're okay... Must have been one hell of a nightmare."

Clary shook her head slowly. "You have no idea... I was strapped to some kind of... _Magical_ table, and my... Some woman was there, telling this guy to protect me... He reached his hand into my skull and ripped out my brain."

She shuddered.

"Hello, Freddy Krueger."

Simon frowned, covering her hand with his own. Something seemed to dawn on her.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Clary demanded. "Shouldn't you be in the infirmary?"

"Uh, I just..." He sighed. "I really needed to see you."

It had taken him forever to find her room.

When it became apparent that she would no longer have to sleep in the infirmary, he had snuck out, attempting to retrace his steps. He'd found Isabelle's door easily enough, and just as he had expected, directly across from it, a _C_ had been carved into the wood.

"I am so sorry that my messed up life put you in danger."

"Clary..." Simon shook his head. "I'm fine."

"No." She insisted. "If those vampires had hurt you... I couldn't live with myself."

She wanted to tell him that he was the only one she had left, but she couldn't, for that was no longer the truth. Maybe it never had been the truth.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm totally grateful that your friends got me out before the vampires drained me like a Big Gulp..." He tried to laugh. "Clary... How well do you know this Jace guy? Can you trust him?"

Clary blinked.

Of course she could trust Jace.

He had always saved her.

"Clary?"

"He saved my life." She told him, gesturing to the rune against her neck. "And yours."

"True." Simon agreed. "But I was thinking... All of this... _Craziness_ started the minute you saw him at Pandemonium. You think that's just a coincidence?"

Clary sighed.

"Honestly, Simon, I don't even know what to think anymore." She admitted. "All I know is, I feel... _Drawn_ to these people, to Jace, Isabelle, and Alec. Some part of me knows them, and I have to get my memories back. I need to know who I really am... I don't know this world. I don't even know where to start looking. I'm... I'm just lost."

"Hey." He muttered, his grip on her hand tightening. "Okay, look, start with what we know, okay? We know that dreams are remnants of memories. Right?"

"Yeah."

"You saw someone mom in the nightmare, before the guy was reaching into your brain."

"Yeah..." Clary repeated, blinking rapidly.

 _Jocelyn..._

Though fading in and out of consciousness, her hearing rune had still worked wonderfully.

She'd strained to hear every word. _  
_

 _I've kept my end of the bargain, Magnus, now it's your turn._

"My mom." She whispered. _"Jocelyn..._ She called him _Magnus_."

Simon paused.

"Magnus Bane?"

"Maybe." Clary mumbled. "Why? How do you know that name?"

"I heard it from the vampire." He said. "You know, the shockingly hot one?"

She rolled her eyes, shooting him a warning look in the process.

Simon awkwardly cleared his throat. "Sorry, uh... Camille... She was super pissed at this Magnus Bane guy when I told her that someone took your memories."

A grin spread across her face. "Simon, you're amazing! You've just... You've given me my first solid lead."

He seemed surprised. "I did?"

"Yeah." With one last squeeze, she released her grip on his hand and threw her covers back, reaching for a sweater thrown across the plush oval chair.

"Awesome!" Simon grinned, though it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. "Wait... Where are you going?"

"I have to find Jace and tell him about Magnus Bane."

He glared at the floor. "Oh."

"What would I do without you?" Clary asked, offering him a wide smile as she dashed out the door.

"Really?" Simon demanded. "Again? I'm such an idiot."

He cast a quick glance at his reflection in the mirror, letting out a gasp.

Camille was standing behind him, laughing maniacally, and then she wasn't.

He was alone again.

"Oh, God." He pressed a hand to suddenly perspiring temple. "I gotta... I gotta get out of here."


	60. Chapter 60

She was used to barging into his room without knocking.

It was a bad habit they had all been doing to each other for years, not necessarily because they had to say was so important, but because they were just eager to see one another.

Jace didn't seem surprised when she burst through his door unannounced.

"Jace!" She called. "I need to talk to you about something, it's really..."

A blush rose to her cheeks when she realized that she had interrupted his workout. He stood there, in all his shirtless glory, a grin gracing his lips when he noticed her burning face.

She quickly turned away, much to his amusement. "Oh... Sorry! I... I really should have knocked first."

Jace chuckled. "Let me just grab a shirt.

"Yeah." Clary said, almost reluctantly. "Good idea."

It suddenly dawned on her that she wasn't shocked to find that he wasn't asleep. He had to be exhausted, they all were, but there he was, still training, and she was not astonished. It had taken her so long to fall asleep.

Her body was still weakened from the aftereffects of the poison, and then adrenaline of Simon's rescue. She had been laying on her bed in the Institute, in the room Jace and Isabelle had so kindly, and beautifully decorated for her, shoes kicked off, willing herself to sleep, but sleep hadn't come.

Her mind was full of darting images; she kept seeing her... _Jocelyn's_ face looking down at her, her expression panicked, kept seeing the Speaking Stars, hearing the voices of the Silent Brothers in her head.

Why would there be a block in her mind?

Why would a powerful warlock have put it there, and to what purpose? She wondered what memories she might have lost, what experiences she'd had that she couldn't now recall.

Why had Jocelyn taken her away from Jace, Izzy and Alec?

 _Jace, Izzy and Alec..._

The only family she had ever known.

"What's up?" Jace asked, his voice snapping her back to reality. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah..." Clary finally turned to face him. "Um... I need you to tell me everything you know about Magnus Bane."

"Magnus Bane is the High Warlock of Brooklyn." He said. "Why?"

"Because that vampire, Camille, practically accused him of stealing my memories. "

Jace looked taken aback. "Where did you hear that?"

"When Simon told Camille someone took my memories back at the Hotel DuMort, she blamed Magnus Bane."

"Right." He scoffed. "And you believe your little mundane friend?"

"I believe Simon." Clary smacked him for his _mundane_ comment. "Besides... I've been having these dreams where this Magnus guy is with Jocelyn... She keeps telling him to protect me."

Jace paused, processing her words.

"You mean, like, memory fragments?"

"Yeah." She muttered. "But... They're not making sense."

"Whatever." He snapped, shooting her a sharp look. "Why didn't you tell me about that?"

He hated being kept out of the loop.

He was always prepared for a new adventure. Jace, Clary knew, was the sort of person who liked it when things were happening, even things that were bad.

"Because, Jace." Clary sighed. "Practically a week ago I didn't remember that this world existed, let alone that Magnus is _real_."

"Magnus's magic is so powerful, he can invade even the Silent Brothers." Jace told her. "If he's the warlock that took your memories... He could be the key to everything."

Her face fell.

Suddenly, he was grasping her shoulders with both hands. "Clary?"

"People are risking their lives to help me get my memories back." She whispered. "But... There might not be anything there... I might not remember anything that will lead to the Mortal Cup... Or you, or Alec... Or Isabelle..."

"Clary." He said again. "Forget about the Cup, okay?"

"Jace-"

"Forget about the Cup." Jace repeated, his grip tightening slightly. "I don't give a damn about the cup."

"Jace..."

"The only thing I want..."

He trailed off.

"The only thing _we_ want if you, Clary." He muttered, releasing her. "The only thing we've ever wanted was for you to come back to us."

He reached for her again, his hand cupping her cheek.

"We love you, Clary." He told her. " _I_ love you."

She opened her mouth to reply, but Isabelle throwing the door open cut her off.

"Jace." She stopped, surveying the two. She looked as if she wanted to say something, though when Jace quickly shook his head, she seemed to remember why she had entered the room in the first place. "I need you. The mundie's leaving."

"Simon?" Clary asked. "He can't leave!"

"He can, and he is." Isabelle replied. "Honestly, Clary, maybe you should just let him go-"

She shook her head, brushing past the dark haired girl. "I have to stop him."

"Izzy." Jace was already starting after her. "Go wake up Alec. We might have a lead on Clary's memories... How can one mundane be such a pain in my ass?"

* * *

 **Words and dialogue belong to the writers of Shadowhunters and Cassandra Clare**


	61. Chapter 61

"Simon!" She snapped, catching hold of his sleeve.

He shrugged out of her grasp.

"What are you doing?" Clary demanded, the hurt clear in her tone.

"I already told Isabelle." He said. "They can't keep me prisoner here."

"Prisoner?" She repeated. "Wait, what..."

Simon brushed past her.

"Simon! Where are you going?"

"I'm going home, Clary." He told her. "And if you haven't already completely drunk their Kool-Aid, then you're coming with me."

He held out a hand, waiting.

Pleading.

She took a step back.

"Clary." Simon begged. "Let me take you home."

Home.

The word sounded so foreign to her.

Did she even have one anymore?

The elevator dinged, and Jace appeared, arms crossed, his eyes dark.

"She _is_ home."

Simon glared at him. "You don't get to talk to me, Captain America."

He blinked, as if processing his words, trying to decide if he had been insulted or not. Clary shook her head; she knew more about comic books and videos than she would have liked, but not enough to explain the entire concept to him. Not that he would have cared.

Jace thought that mundanes were very... _M_ _undane._ Dull. Lacking interest or excitement.

Had she once believed the same thing?

"Considering I'm the guy with the weapons, I get to say what I want."

Simon started towards him, his movements blurred. Clary's eyes widened.

She was the one who had changed. Not him.

The Simon she had known and loved would never hurt a fly.

"Come at me, bro!"

Jace almost looked amused, his gaze boring into her own. She shot him a warning glance, but that did little to deter the familiar smug smirk she had always loved.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!" Simon challenged, moving towards him.

Jace could have destroyed Simon with one hand tied behind his back; they all knew it.

"Hey!" Clary scolded, stepping in between them. "What is your problem?"

"Clary..." Jace started to say, but she threw a hand upward, cutting him off.

" _He's_ my problem!" Simon cried, pointing at Jace. "Clary, why do you let him... You know what? Never mind. Don't worry about me, Fray, I can take care of myself."

He brushed past her.

She dared to steal a glance at the golden haired boy.

"I'm not saving his ass a second time." Jace told her.

She ignored him, taking off after her best friend.

"Simon! Hey... Simon!"

He ignored her.

Clary caught hold of his arm, spinning him back around.

"What?" He demanded.

"You were kidnapped by vampires." She reminded him, as if either of them could ever forget. "You of all people should know how dangerous it is out there.

Simon shook his head, attempting to move past her. "I'll be fine."

"Hey." Clary snapped. "You're not the only one who's in danger. All right? If you go home right now, you're putting your mother, and your sister, and even Maureen at risk. Think about them."

"I am thinking about them. Are _you?_ "

"How can you even ask me-"

"Because if everything you've said about the Shadow World is true, they're already in danger, and I need to be home to protect them."

"Simon..."

He offered her a hand.

"Clary." He begged. "Come with me. We can crash at my place, we can figure all this out."

"Simon..." Clary said again.

"Clary." Simon was pleading now. "We've had each other's backs our whole lives, we've never needed anyone... Let me help you. We don't... We don't need these people... Let me take you home."

Clary took another step back, shaking her head slowly.

She had never been a foster child, an unwanted Ward of the State. She had never been Clary Fray.

She was, she always had been Clary Fairchild; friend, daughter, sister, parabatai...

Soul Mate...

Shadowhunter.

Home was being around people who could drive her absolutely crazy one moment because they knew she would still love them anyway.

Home was knowing that no matter how hard times got, someone would be there for her.

It wasn't the Institute that felt like home.

It was Alec.

Isabelle.

Jace.

From the moment she first saw them, she knew the truth, the unmistakable, unforgettable truth.

"Simon." She whispered. "I think I _am_ home."

By the look on Simon's face, she had clearly said the wrong thing.

"Message received." He hissed. "Loud and clear."

He stormed out.

"Simon!" Clary called. "Wait! Simon!"

As much as she wanted to, she knew she couldn't go after him.

If Valentine's men were truly searching for her...

She couldn't put him in any more danger.

A hand wrapped around her own.

"Clary." Isabelle muttered.

Slowly, she turned to face her parabati, her eyes welling with tears. Isabelle pulled her close, and Clary clung to her for dear life.

She wanted to tell Isabelle the other reason as to why she had stayed, why she had so willingly let Simon walk away, but she could not find her voice.

She couldn't bear to be away from her, from any of them, ever again.

She was home.

She was right where she belonged.

* * *

 **Dialogue belongs to the writers of Shadowhunters.**


	62. Chapter 62

Clary choosing the Shadowhunters over him was not surprising, and it probably should have been.

How could any of this be real?

He was the one who had always been there for her.

He was the one who had been in love with her for practically his entire life.

What would happen to them now?

He was losing her, little by little. He had already begun to wrestle with the little things, what to do with all the framed photographs, or if he would even be able to acknowledge her next birthday.

He couldn't throw away the photos, or ignore her birthday, but he also couldn't do what he had always done, act as if everything was normal, because it wasn't.

Who was he supposed to go to when something exciting or awful happened? It was so easy to tell her everything.

His heart sunk.

Soon, he would have to go someone else, someone who just wouldn't get it, and it wouldn't be worth it anyway, because no one else would ever be _Clary_.

She had begun to treat Jace, Isabelle and Alec the way she had once treated him, choosing to share special moments with them, laughing at inside jokes that he could never understand, and it had been shoved in his face, hurting just as much as it had the first time.

Almost every single moment of his childhood involved her. Their friendship was impossible to disregard, because she had shaped the person he was today.

Maybe, _maybe_ , the two of them would get back to the point of being friends, but would it feel forced?

Awkward?

Would she remember that she was the person who knew every single awkward, inappropriate, mortifying aspect of his life?

He couldn't lose her.

He wouldn't give up without a fight.

Even if Jace, Isabelle and Alec were there to stay, even if she would never again be the Clary he knew and loved, he would take what he could get.

A little piece of her, and their former relationship was better than nothing at all.


	63. Chapter 63

"So." Clary muttered. "Magnus Bane."

She was trying to force herself not to think about Simon, and with the situation at hand, it was almost possible. Alec was finally awake, his hair nearly falling into his eyes.

He needed a haircut.

He had once trusted her, and her alone, to get the job done. Maryse had made them do it outside, Alec perched on that uncomfortable, really just decorative stone bench, a towel thrown across his shoulders.

Trust was a loose term in that situation.

He had always been happy with the outcome, but it took twice as long, for he constantly ducked his head, or winced when she neared him with the sheers. She had snapped at him the last time, told him that she wouldn't cut his hair any longer. She hadn't meant it, though their fight only grew.

Alec had told her that...

"Clary?" Jace called, his voice snapping her back to reality.

The memory was gone just as quickly as it had reappeared. It no longer surprised her what she could, and could not remember. Soon, her life as a mundane would cease to exist.

She could be Clary Fairchild again, the Clary that she knew, though they would never dare say the words allowed, Alec, Isabelle and Jace would have given anything to have back.

They all wanted the same thing.

"Clary?"

"Coming!" She said, catching hold of the eldest Lightwood's arm as he began to move past her.

He grinned down at her in confusion.

"I know we're a little busy..." Clary began. "But come see me later. We need to do something about that hair."

Alec's gaze reflected immediate understanding.

A tentative grin spread across his face, and he gave her hand a hard squeeze before taking his place by Jace.

* * *

They sat around the table, careful to keep their conversation hushed. What they were about to do hadn't exactly been approved by the Clave.

Photographs of the Warlock were displayed across the screen.

"He's over 300 years old." Alec told her. "He hasn't exactly shied away from the pleasures of every century. His tastes are both exquisite, and quite excessive."

"He looks like the Downworlder's David Guetta."

Isabelle grinned. "Guetta's already a Downworlder."

"Vampire?" Clary asked.

"Ever seen him in the daylight?"

The girls snickered.

"Can you two focus?" Alec snapped. "This is not a joke."

Isabelle rolled her eyes at her brother. "Someone needs to get slayed."

"Alec's right." Jace said, but Clary could have sworn his lips almost twitched into a smile. "Magnus is one of the most powerful warlocks in the world... He has a deep mistrust of Shadowhunters."

"Then why did he help Jocelyn remove my memories?" She demanded. "Isn't she a Shadowhunter?"

 _"Help_ might not be the most accurate word." Alec said, his lips forming a thin line, the way they always had whenever Jocelyn's name was mentioned. "The real question is, did Magnus provide a service for Jocelyn? Probably."

"More than likely, she paid Magnus handsomely for his magic."

"Warlocks usually require payment before they help anyone with anything." Alec explained.

The brothers shared a look, one that didn't go unnoticed by Clary.

"What?" She inquired, her eyes narrowing. Even when she couldn't remember, she still knew them well. "What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

"Clary..." Jace began.

"Whatever it is, I can handle it."

Alec shook his head. "Clary-"

"Guys." She said.

She paused, slipping her hand into Jace's.

"I'm a Shadowhunter." Clary reminded them. "I can handle it."

The boys shared another look.

Jace shook his head.

 _We can't keep her in the dark forever._ Alec thought.

"There's word that warlocks are going into hiding because Valentine is hunting them."

Her eyes hardened at the mention of his name.

"He knows I'm alive."

Alec nodded slowly.

The notion sent shivers down her spine.

Her... _Valentine_ , the man was most certainly not her father, was killing people, _innocent_ people in an attempt to find _her._

"Clary." Isabelle muttered. "This isn't your fault."

She swallowed hard, trying to believe the raven haired girl.

"So how do we find Magnus?"

"We don't." Jace said. "Magnus finds us. We'll set up a meeting, somewhere protected, lure him out of hiding."

Isabelle rose, a flyer in her hand. "And I know exactly where we do it."

Jace snatched it away, a smirk spreading across his face as his eyes scanned the page. "A Downworld rave. Nice, Izzy."

"Where'd you get that?" Alec demanded.

He sounded suspicious, ready to criticize.

Clary shot him a warning look, and he threw his arms up in surrender.

"During my surveillance of the Downworlders." She explained, tossing her hair. "From what I hear, Magnus likes to party."

"He'll never go for it, not with Valentine trying to kill him."

"Of course he will. He'll blend in, hiding in plain sight, it's genius."

"I don't know..." Clary drew out. "It seems..."

"Trust me." Isabelle took the flyer back. "If Magnus is coming out of hiding, he's going to one of the biggest parties of the year."

Jace touched her shoulder. "Never underestimate Magnus' hedonism. Or his greed. Come with me."

"Jace." Alec warned, following along behind him anyway.

He produced his stele, hovering it above a rune burned into a tile on the training room floor.

"Am I ever going to get one of those?" Clary asked.

"You have one." Isabelle replied.

"You _used_ to have one." Jace corrected, a little too quickly. "We'll get you a new one."

"Jace." She protested.

Alec glanced down at her, his expression unreadable. "We'll get you a new one."

The floor began to rise, revealing a hidden compartment. Jace pulled out a long chain, holding it out for all too see.

Clary gasped.

"Is that real?"

"A four-karat, unheated Burmese ruby." He pressed it into her palm. "This necklace has special meaning to Magnus Bane. It was a gift from him to his then lover, Camille Belcourt."

She raised an eyebrow. "Camille and Magnus were lovers?"

Jace grinned down at her. "Warlock gets around."

"Magnus bought it in eighteen-fifty-seven for the price of his London townhouse." Alec continued. "Now, the jewel is enchanted by a spell that alerts the wearer to the presence of demons."

Isabelle took the necklace from Clary. "It's so beautiful."

"Magnus has longed to reunite with this necklace." Jace crossed his arms. "We'll offer it to him. He might just take the bait."

For a moment, Alec looked as if he might object, but he remained silent.

 _He hates breaking the rules._ Clary thought, surveying him. He offered her a half-nod before quickly turning away. _Why is he helping me?_

 _Because he's willing to do whatever it takes to get your memories back._ An almost too familiar voice in her head told her. _They're all willing to risk everything to help you. Why?  
_

 _They love you, and you love them._

"I'll send Magnus a fire message to arrange the meeting." Jace's voice snapped her back to reality. He paused, a grim look on his face. "We have to get to Magnus before Valentine does."


	64. Chapter 64

"Isabelle." She whined. "It's so... _Tight."_

"It's _stretchy."_ Isabelle insisted, thrusting the hanger towards her. "Put it on."

With one last eye roll, she slipped into the bathroom, pulling on the black dress over her head. It was tight, with tiny spaghetti straps. Trying not to inhale too deeply, she returned to the bedroom, a frown on her face.

"I don't know." Clary said. "I'm more of a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl."

"Clary." Isabelle scolded. "Don't _ever_ limit yourself."

The words seemed so familiar.

She had always wanted to be like the girl standing in front of her, of that she was sure.

Isabelle was gorgeous, with her sleek jet black hair, and her piercing blue eyes, but it wasn't just her beauty that Clary envied. She was so confident, she knew _exactly_ who she was, she had never had to question it.

Isabelle kicked out a pair of boots and some black fishnet tights over to her. "You can wear these with it. They'll make you look taller."

Clary flopped down onto the bed and pulled the tights and boots on.

The heels were a little loose around the calves, but didn't slide around on her feet. She laced them to the top and stood up, looking at herself in the mirror. She had to admit that the combination of short black dress, fishnets, and high boots was fairly badass.

"Sit." Isabelle insisted, pointing imperiously toward the vanity table.

Clary sat, and squinted her eyes shut as Isabelle began to brush through her untamable hair.

Soon, the strands fell into warm and heavy curls down her neck, reaching just past her waist. The sensation of hair tickling her bare skin was unfamiliar and oddly pleasant.

A powder puff smacked her in the face, releasing a dense cloud of glitter. Clary coughed.

Isabelle giggled nervously. "Sorry!"

"And you wonder why I never let you do my makeup." Clary grumbled.

An awkward moment of silence passed between them.

It was something _their_ Clary would have said.

"Clary..."

"I need to get my memories back." She whispered.

Isabelle took hold of her hand, squeezing softly.

"You will." She promised.

Clary opened her eyes.

"You can look now."

She leaned in to the mirror, her jaw dropping in surprise.

What had Isabelle _done_ to her?

Her cheekbones looked sharp and angular, her eyes deep-set, mysterious, and a luminous green.

"I look..."

"You look beautiful." Isabelle said easily. "You look like Clary."

* * *

 **Words belong to Cassandra Clare**


	65. Chapter 65

He didn't have to turn around to know it was his sister who was approaching.

"Pick you weapon." He instructed, gesturing to the array of choices he'd laid out on the table. "I suggest your whip."

Isabelle surveyed him, a frown on her face. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

She scoffed.

"We're going to a Downworlder's rave. You should be a little more excited."

"It's a mission, Izzy." Alec reminded her. "Not a party."

Isabelle let her shoulders drop in an uninterested shrug. "Whatever."

A moment of silence passed between the siblings.

"Are you okay?"

He refused to look at her. "Sure."

"Alec..."

"I'm fine, Izzy."

"No." She said. "You're not, you haven't been since Jace brought Clary back here."

"Leave it alone, Isabelle."

She crossed her arms. "No."

"Izzy-"

"You know, after we lost her, every day was the same. Go on a mission, kill demons, go on a mission, kill demons."

It was Alec's turn to shrug. "What's your point?"

"Things are _finally_ back to normal."

"Normal?" He repeated in disbelief. "How does any of this seem _normal_ to you?"

"Alec."

Finally, he whirled around to face her.

He looked _devastated._

This was not the brother she knew, the boy who hid his emotions in fear of looking weak.

"Izzy." He pronounced carefully. "We might have her back, but she isn't our Clary. She barely remembers us. She's hanging out with a _mundane!"_

"Alec-"

"On top of that, we're gonna end up overpaying some warlock who may or may not have information we need." Alec continued. "What if this doesn't work? What if her memories are gone forever? Have you even _thought_ about that? What are we gonna do?"

He hit the table, his hand clenched up in a fist.

"Whoa!" Isabelle muttered. "Feel better now?"

"No." He hissed. "I don't."

A moment passed.

"Okay." Alec admitted. "Maybe a little."

She sighed, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. "You can't keep bottling things up, Alec, it's only a matter of time before they explode, and not in a fun way."

"Izzy, what if-"

"You can't go there." Isabelle said. "No matter what happens, we have Clary, that's the only thing that matters."

Alec began to process her words.

Was it really better than nothing, to have her back even without her memories?

Could they again be complete without the girl they had known and loved, without the girl that knew she was Isabelle's parabatai, the girl that gladly argued with Alec on a daily basis, because they were Clary and Alec, and that was just what they did, the girl who somewhere deep down inside of her, knew that she and Jace were going to end up together?

He had to be the realistic one, for all of their sakes.

"Come on." He grumbled, brushing past her. "And remember, we're not going for the music."


	66. Chapter 66

"Clary Fairchild."

Her head snapped up to meet the man's gaze, her eyes narrowing. Jace touched her arm, his hand lingering for just a moment before he took the lead, leaving her no choice but to follow him.

The Warlock looked her up and down, as if apraising her. Jace's jaw tightened.

"You've grown into a beautiful young woman." Magnus said in greeting, rising to his feet.

"Magnus Bane." Clary hissed. "So you're the one who stole my memories."

"At your mother's request. She knew the risk."

He snapped his fingers.

"Show me the jewelry, _Shadowhunter_."

Jace produced the necklace from his back pocket, the gem resting heavily in his palm. Magnus began to reach for it, but he yanked it back with a smirk.

"Oh." Jace drew out. "Give Clary back her memories, and you get the jewelry."

Magnus returned his grin with a sneer. "I have to confirm its authenticity."

Jace glanced at her as he reluctantly handed it over.

A lilac-skinned woman in a metallic bustier was ranging drinks along the bar in tall, harshly colored glasses that tinted the fluid inside them: blood red, cyanosis blue, poison green. Even for a New York bartender she worked with an amazingly speedy efficiency-probably helped along by the fact that she had a second set of long, graceful arms to go with the first.

The rest of the crowd was just as strange.

A good-looking boy with wet green-black hair grinned at her over a platter of what looked like raw fish. His teeth were sharp and serrated, like a shark's. Beside him stood a girl with long dirty-blond hair, braided with flowers. Under the skirt of her short green dress, her feet were webbed like a frog's. A group of young women, so pale Clary wondered if they were wearing white stage makeup, sipped scarlet liquid too thick to be wine from fluted crystal glasses.

The center of the room was packed with bodies dancing to the pounding beat that bounced off the walls. She could barely hear Magnus when he again began to speak.

" _Amor verus numquam moritur_." He recited easily. "True love cannot die. Oh, how I've missed this jewel."

"Now it's your turn to pay up."

Magnus sighed, almost looking apologetic. "I wish I could retrieve your memories, but I no longer have them."

Jace and Clary exchanged a sharp look.

"What? Where are they?"

"I fed them to a memory demon for safekeeping."

Jace stepped forward, his hand twitching as if he wanted to wrap his fingers around his seraph blade, and plunge it into the Warlock's chest. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"To protect Clary." He replied, as if the answer made perfect sense. "And the Cup. If Valentine ever captured me, he could torture Clary's memories, and her location out of me. The Cup wasn't the only thing he was after."

The Cup.

She _had_ known where the Cup was.

Suddenly, Magnus grasped her arm, fingers locking around her wrist.

"Come with me."

She stared at him in disbelief, trying to free herself. "What? No!"

Alec and Isabelle were at her side in an instant, as if they had heard her cry out.

"Let go of her." Jace hissed, but Magnus's attention was fixated on the raven haired Shadowhunter.

"Who are _you?"_

The two stared at one another for a moment.

Then, Alec cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the almost tangible intimacy in the air.

"I, um... I... Um... Jace... What's going on, Jace?"

"He won't give Clary her memories back."

His parabatai's words seemed to snap him back to reality.

 _"What?"_

"He fed them to a memory demon." Clary said, still struggling. How could one Warlock be so strong?

"Valentine is hunting you, too." Magnus told her. "And every moment we're outside my lair's protection, is a moment Valentine gets closer to finding us."

Isabelle took a step forward. "She's not going anywhere with you."

He opened his mouth to reply, but a scream cut him off.

A man was charging towards them.

Jace grabbed a blade, Isabelle readied her whip, and Alec moved to stand in front of her, his hand brushing against hers, as if to try and reassure her that everything was going to be okay.

Jace tossed the knife, hitting the man with perfect accuracy.

The distraction was all Magnus needed to open a portal.

"Valentine found us. I warned your mother this might happen." He muttered, his grip tightening on her arm. "I'm sorry, Clary, truly."

"No!" Clary screamed. "Jace!"

He whirled around, his eyes widening. "Clary..."

Magnus began to step through the portal, pulling her along behind him.

"No!"

Her fingers enclosed around the first thing she could grab.

* * *

Jace ran towards her, his hand shooting out in attempt to yank her back.

He caught empty air, landing on the ground with a thud.

"Jace." Isabelle was at his side, shaking him. "Are you okay?"

He ignored her. "Where's Clary?"

"I don't know." Isabelle replied, her eyes widening in fear.

She glanced around.

Jace sat up, wincing.

"Jace?"

"What?" He hissed.

He had promised to protect her, and he had failed.

Again.

"Where's Alec"


	67. Chapter 67

Finally free of the Warlock's grasp, she stumbled through the portal.

She would have fallen flat on her face had it not been for the arms wrapping around her middle, placing her feet back on the ground.

"I've got you, Klutzy."

She scowled at the nickname.

"Thanks, Alec." She muttered, trying to take in their surroundings.

She did a double take.

 _Alec._

He was standing just behind her, his clothes rumpled, looking just as confused as she felt.

She had never been so grateful to see someone in her life. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but then thought better of it. He had never been a fan of hugging, sometimes, all he could muster was an awkward pat on her shoulder, though she knew he meant well.

He glanced at her for a moment, a silent question, and she nodded in response, promising him that she was, in fact, okay.

Alec was still seemingly bewildered, but he was _there._ He was there, and she was safe.

She wasn't alone.

 _You'll never be alone._ An all too familiar voice told her. _Not as long as you have Jace, Izzy and Alec._

Suddenly, she didn't care about his discomfort. She clung to him for dear life, burying her face into his shoulder because he had always towered over her.

She was surprised when he returned the embrace just as eagerly, his arms forming a protective circle around her.

But the moment ended all too soon.

He was still holding her when his gaze moved to the man standing in front of them.

"Why did you bring her here?" Alec barked, his grip tightening.

"I don't remember inviting _you_ along, Shadowhunter." Magnus replied. "Although, in any other circumstance, I wouldn't mind the company, especially if they had _your_ blue eyes."

Alec and Clary exchanged a confused look.

She raised an eye brow.

He...

He almost looked _flattered._

Then, he seemed to snap back to reality, releasing her, and gently pushing her back a step to stand behind him as he reached for an arrow from his quiver.

"Why did you bring her here?" He repeated, his tone dark, his eyes murderous.

"I made a promise to her mother-"

 _Your mother feels that this is the only way she can protect you._ He had said. _If it helps, in a moment, you will not remember any of this_

"You were going to take my memories." Clary realized.

The eldest Lightwood's jaw tightened.

She moved closer to Alec instinctively, as if she knew he would protect her.

 _He will always protect you._

"Your mother believed-"

"Jocelyn isn't my mother." She replied, because it was the truth. Alec was right, the woman had lost the chance to be her mother a long time ago.

Alec readied his bow.

"You're not taking her away from us again."

"You are more than welcome to try and stop me." Magnus grinned. "However, I highly doubt you will succeed."

Clary smirked.

"Then you obviously don't know Alec."

A scream pierced the air.


	68. Chapter 68

"What are we going to do?" He demanded.

She glared at the ground.

"I don't know."

"Well you've been a big help, Izzy." Jace snapped, angrily pacing back and forth.

"Jace." She warned.

"Sorry, I just..." He cursed loudly. "What are we gonna do? She's out there, alone, unprotected-"

"If she's with Alec, then she's not exactly alone." Isabelle reminded him.

"I know."

"He would never let anything happen to her."

"I know..."

"Clary is one of the best Shadowhunters out there."

"I know-"

"We can't protect her forever."

"Iz." Jace hissed. "I _know_ , okay? I know Alec won't let anything happen to her, I know she's one of the best Shadowhunters alive, I _know_ I can't protect her all the time, but that isn't going to stop me from trying, because the last time I left her alone, the last time I left her unprotected, we lost her, and I thought she was gone forever."

When she tried to reach for him, he stepped away.

"Jace..."

"I..." He whispered. "I can't lose her again."

"You won't," Isabelle promised. "We won't."

She closed her eyes, unsure of what to do.

How were they supposed to find Alec and Clary?

Tracking was out of the question.

Magnus was smart enough to block the power of the rune, and neither she nor Jace had anything of Alec's or Clary's to use.

 _Where are you?_ She thought.

 _Where are you, Clary?_

 _Izzy._

She gasped.

"What is it?" Jace demanded, catching hold of her arm. "What's wrong?"

Isabelle opened her eyes.

"Um..." She said, blinking several times. "Weirdly, I think I know where we can find them."


	69. Chapter 69

"Valentine?" She asked.

He shook his head.

"No." Alec said. "But they are Circle members. Run, Clary."

She stared at him in disbelief.

They were a team. They were supposed to stick together no matter what.

Always.

Forever.

It was their promise.

"Alec..."

A man started towards her, only to be stopped short by an arrow piercing his heart.

"I would listen to him, young Shadowhunter." Magnus called. "When I took your memories, in them was your ability to fight. We can finish our little... _Discussion_ later."

He disappeared.

Clary spun around, desperately seeking him. Alec took a step forward, reaching for her, but she backed away.

"Run." He repeated.

She couldn't leave him.

Not again.

"Alec-"

A Circle member started towards them. Alec jumped in front of her, throwing his arm back as he released another arrow.

"Run, Clary." He said. "Run, and don't stop. We'll find you."

"But... Magnus..."

"I'll take care of the Warlock." He promised. "Please, Clary, go, now."

She didn't want to leave him.

 _"Run."_

Reluctantly and regrettably, she spun on her heel, taking off in the opposite direction, running until she could not run anymore. Isabelle's boots were killing her feet.

Suddenly, a body was thrown from above the ledge of the warehouse, she finally seemed to realize that Magnus Bane's hideout was not as glamours as she would have thought, landing just a few feet away from her hiding spot.

Clary winced.

Innocent people were dying, because of her father, but also, because of _her_ , for word had most certainly realized that she was alive.

He wouldn't stop until he had her.

"Daddy?"

She readied her blade.

With all the chaos, she had almost forgotten that she had it.

"Daddy?" The little voice asked again.

A girl appeared, her dark hair pulled back into two tight braids. She knelt before her father, shaking him. Clary hesitated.

"Daddy." She begged, her eyes welling with tears. "Get up, please!"

The Circle member approached her from behind, readying his weapon.

She was no older than Max.

 _Max.  
_

Clary's heart nearly broke at the thought of the little boy.

She had to save her.

"Watch out!" She yelled, kicking the man away.

The girl ran to stand behind her, catching hold of Clary's outstretched hand.

A sinister smile spread across his face.

"Clary Fairchild." He greeted. "Valentine has been looking _everywhere_ for you."

He started towards her.

A familiar whip shot out, locking around his wrist like a lasso.

He groaned, crying out as a knife pierced his heart. Slowly, she turned her head, letting out a sigh of relief as Jace met her gaze.

"Thanks for that."

He offered her a playful wink despite the situation. "Any time."

* * *

Jace jumped from the rafters, slowly moving to stand beside his sister. Clary was across the room, her hand on the shoulder of a little girl who looked to be no older than Max.

The three stared at one another for a moment, and then, Clary was rushing towards them.

Jace and Isabelle caught her easily, the golden haired Shadowhunter supporting most of her weight. Clary clung to them for dear life.

"You found me." Sbe whispered.

Jace squeezed his eyes shut before any tears could be summoned. He couldn't cry in front of her. He wouldn't.

It had been so long since he had held her.

"Always." He muttered. "We will _always_ find you."

He wished the moment could have lasted forever, but there was work to be done.

"Stick close." Isabelle advised, reluctantly pulling away. "It's safest if we stay together."

Clary nodded, slipping her arm around the little girl.

"It's okay." She said. "I won't leave you alone, I promise."

He suddenly found himself wanting to tell her just how easily promises could be broken. He knew that better than anyone.

 _I'll be right back._

"Jace?"

"Coming." He called, a little too quickly.

He couldn't think like that anymore, he couldn't keep blaming himself. They had her, they really, truly had her, and they were never letting her go again.


	70. Chapter 70

He had to believe she was safe.

Magnus had admitted to removing her memories; any and every moment she had ever cherished, memories of her training, everything she had once known, it was all gone.

And yet...

Somewhere, deep down, she knew him, she knew all of them.

She knew herself.

She had killed a ravener, saving Jace in the process, she had killed a Circle member to save her mundane. Her instincts were still there.

Clary, the Clary he knew and loved was still there, somewhere.

He had to believe in _her._

A crash had him running towards Magnus Bane's living room.

The loft was huge, filled with expensive furniture and original artwork, dating back decades. Floor-to-ceiling windows covered the walls, curtains drawn to block out most of the ambient light from the street.

Magnus's hands were glowing as he prepared to defend himself.

"Your magic's strong, Warlock." The Circle member sneered. "Much stronger than that horned weakling I killed this morning."

Magnus paused. "Elias?"

"That was his name." He grinned. "Well, lucky for us, he sold you out before I took his warlock mark."

The Warlock's irises began to glow.

Alec was mesmerized.

He was supposed to think less of the Downworld, after all, Shadowhunters were superior, it was what he had been raised to believe, but Magnus Bane...

"Cat's eyes." He hissed. "Be a nice addition to my collection."

He charged forward.

Alec readied his bow.

The arrow distracted him long enough for the Warlock to end his life, sending him toppling over the capsized book case.

"Well done."

"More like medium-rare." Magnus replied, turning to face him. He almost smiled. "I'm Magnus. I don't think we've been formally introduced."

"Alec." He said. The two stared at one another for a moment. "Oh... Uh... We should really... You know, probably get..."

What was wrong with him?

Magnus was partially responsible for the two years his family had spent without Clary, and he was _flustered?_

Alec Lightwood didn't get rattled, especially in front of the Warlock who had taken his sister's memories.

The blame went to Jocelyn, but Magnus could have refused her.

"Right." Magnus agreed, starting towards the door. "We should join the party... This fight is far from over."


	71. Chapter 71

"Magnus."

She broke away from Clary, throwing herself into the Warlock's arms. He held her for a moment before pulling back, resting both hands heavily against her shoulders.

"Go join the others, my dear. This is no place for a little girl."

Clary wholeheartedly agreed.

Magnus sighed, slowly turning to face her. "I heard what you did for Zoe. You risked your life without hesitation to save a young warlock child."

"She was just a girl, and she was in trouble." She replied. "I had no choice."

"You _always_ have a choice."

She could feel eyes burning holes into her back.

She knew Jace was agitated about her being in such close proximity to the man who had pretty much kidnapped her, and while she appreciated his want, maybe his _need_ to protect her, she knew Magnus would not try anything again.

She was a Shadowhunter.

It was time for her to start saving herself.

"You're not like the others, Clary Fairchild." Magnus genuinely seemed surprised. "Most Shadowhunters protect Downworlders out of sense of duty, but you saved young Zoe because of what was inside your heart... Perhaps your mother was wrong to send you away."

"You think?" Jace grumbled.

Clary ignored him. "Magnus, please, I need to get my memories back. You can't hide from this battle. Look, Valentine, he found you once, he will find you again. We need to work together. Help me."

"I can summon the demon." He said. "You must make the demand. Now I warn you... Retrieving your memories will not be easy."

She glanced back at her friends.

Her family.

She couldn't lose them again.

She wouldn't.

"I'll do whatever I have to do."

Magnus nodded. "All right, but we're not safe here, the lair's location has been compromised. Hold tight, everyone, we're about to move."

A sudden force send her tumbling forward.

Familiar arms wrapped around her waist, holding her steady. She and Jace shared a grin.

Maybe she didn't _always_ have to save herself.


End file.
